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THE SIGN OF TRIUMPH 





























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“ SHE STOOD SHAMEFACED AND MISERABLE ” 

(See page iq4.) 


HE SIGN 

OF *f? ttr Hr rUr 

TRIUMPH 

A ROMANCE OF THE CHILDREN’S CRUSADE 


By 

SHEPPARD STEVENS 

Author of “I Am the King,” " In the 
Eagle’s Talon,” etc. 


Illustrated by 

HARRY C. EDWARDS 


BOSTON 

L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 

M D C C C C I V 

L. _ 





THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 



Two Copies Received 


ft- 27 1904 



C*pyrns:hf Entry 


Copyright , 1904 
By L. C. Page & Company 

(incorporated) 

All rights reserved 


Published February, 1904 


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dolontal $re3» 

Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 
Boston, Mass,. U. S. A. 


TO 


THE MEMORY OF 


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INTRODUCTION 


Ever since chance first led me into some research 
on the subject of the Children’s Crusade, I have been 
astonished at the manner in which historians have 
allowed this event, so pitiful and so marvellous, to 
drop almost completely out of sight ; or, at the best, 
have dismissed it with a paragraph of a few lines. 

So utterly inconceivable is the whole movement 
from the standpoint of to-day, that one would be 
justified in doubting its truth, were there not some 
nineteen or twenty authorities on the subject, five 
of these chroniclers having lived at the time, and 
several others having drawn their information from 
chronicles since destroyed. 

Aside from the interest which this Crusade holds 
in itself, — a Crusade which lost to the homes of 
France and Germany nearly one hundred thousand 
children, — it is interesting to* the student, showing, 
as nothing else does, the strong religious feeling and 
the superstition of the Middle Ages, 


Vlll 


Introduction 


There were three different armies of children, two 
from Germany and one from France, where the 
movement originated. In this story I have followed 
the French children in their march to the sea, though 
these suffered far less than either of the other two 
armies, one of which left Cologne and walked seven 
hundred miles, over the Alps, through a hostile coun- 
try, where they were murdered and kidnapped, be- 
sides suffering starvation, cold, and fatigue. Of this 
thirty thousand, only about six thousand reached 
Genoa, and these were the hardiest and oldest of the 
boys. The other army started also from Cologne, but 
proceeded to Brindisi. The same misery and disap- 
pointment met them all at the Mediterranean, but the 
German children at least escaped being sold into 
slavery, which was the fate of the French children. 
They turned home discouraged, or stayed in the 
towns along the coast, adding to the criminal popu- 
lation for years after. 

Nothing was heard of the French children who 
set sail so hopefully, until eighteen years later ; then 
an escaped priest returned to tell the tale of their 
sufferings under heathen masters. 

I have tried — yet, I fear, failed miserably — to 
set before you the pathos of these thousands of young 
lives going down to death and worse, led by a beauti- 
ful idea to a dreadful reality. If once in imagination 


Introduction 


IX 


you have heard the tramp of those myriad small 
feet, they are not easy to forget, and to read the 
simple chronicle of their wandering is to read 
through a mist of tears. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


♦ 

PAGE 

“ She stood shamefaced and miserable ” (See 

Page IQ4) ...... Frontispiece 

“ He backed toward the door of the inn ” . 42 

“ Before him, pushed to its very edge, was the 

boy” 107 

“ Her finger softly touched . . . the scar . 336 



THE 

SIGN OF TRIUMPH 


CHAPTER I. 

In the year 1212, the town of Chartres, situated 
on the River Eure, equidistant from Paris on the 
one hand and Orleannois on the other, was sur- 
rounded by a well-built rampart, under whose walls 
a little stream slipped in, and, having traversed a 
part of the enclosure, as quietly gurgled out to join 
the Eure, scarcely stayed in its coming or going 
by the heavy iron water-gates, whose strong bars 
offered a sturdy resistance to enemies trying this 
mode of ingress. From this stream the town drew 
its chief supply of water, and strict were the laws 
passed by the worthy bourgeoisie against any pol- 
lution of it. At the lower water-gate, just before 
it disappeared under the frowning rampart, the 
women were permitted to do their scant washing, 


1 


2 


The Sign of Triumph 


and here, on such days, sat those self-elected judges 
which every community has known since men gath- 
ered together in corporate bodies ; here, while stains 
were deftly removed from linen or wool, a blacker 
and more enduring mark was often rubbed into a 
neighbour’s character; here died many a fair repu- 
tation slain by half a dozen careless words. 

Since early morning of the day on which my 
story opens, a straggling procession of serfs and 
villains, together with a fair sprinkling of their 
betters, had traversed the dusty highway leading 
to the town, and demanded admittance from the 
guard at the gate. The queer little shops along the 
narrow, irregular streets were all tight closed, ex- 
cept in the quarter where the corporation of pastry 
cooks did business. Here the doors were thrown 
wide, and a tempting display of king’s cakes and 
sweets sent out appealing odours on the heavy morn- 
ing air, and in the low doorway of each shop stood 
the master, or an alert prentice boy, on the watch 
for stray custom; for as yet business was dull and 
buyers few. At the upper end of the street a crowd 
had gathered, and every window in the vicinity 
showed one or more heads leaning in eager effort 
to lose no part of the fierce discussion going on 
between two angry, red-faced bourgeois, who tossed 
accusation and denial, threat and defiance, back and 


3 


The Sign of Triumph 

forth in such swift fashion, that the gaping crowd 
of curiosity mongers had much ado to keep pace 
with the quarrel. The two combatants forming the 
nucleus of this gathering were each clinging to an 
arm of a frightened countryman, who had lost his 
cap of linsey-woolsey, and seemed in a fair way to 
lose most of his clothing between the angry adver- 
saries. 

“ The man was a good arm’s length nearer my 
shop than thine when thou didst solicit him, I’ll 
make my oath to that before the syndic,” loudly 
protested the larger man, emphasizing his declara- 
tion by a jerk at the leathern blouse of the villain 
between them. 

“ And I will make mine that he had crossed the 
line by the length of my hand, ere I ever said word 
to him,” retorted the other, also using the long- 
suffering countryman to give point to his speech. 

“ Nay, but the fellow shall decide the matter for 
himself. Tell me, sirrah, wert thou not here?” 
questioned number one, dragging his victim about 
five feet to one side of the spot on which they stood. 

“ Have a care, fellow, how thou dost affirm 
falsely; this is a question for the law’s settling. 
Now say truly, man, and have no fear of yon en- 
raged brute ; wert thou not here ? ” and again the 


4 


The Sign of Triumph 


unwilling captive was dragged to another spot 
nearer by six feet to the last speaker’s shop. 

“ I’ll have thee before the syndic ere the day is 
past, and see if thou wilt be let to steal my custom 
and smirch my character as well,” cried number 
one, dropping the countryman’s arm to shake his 
clinched fist in the face of his adversary. “ These, 
my neighbours, shall be called to testify in my be- 
half, and thou shalt see thyself quickly confounded.” 

At this a loud murmur arose amongst the crowd, 
some in support of one party, others loud in behalf 
of his opponent. 

“ As to that, I will have thee to the corporation 
hall, for putting thy clinched fist in my face, besides 
accusing me falsely. Thou shalt be pilloried for 
this, an I live but the day out.” 

During this altercation, unnoticed by any of the 
onlookers, another person had joined the company, 
a man of middle age and dignified bearing, whose 
air of authority spoke him a person of importance. 
He wore a flat cap on his head, from which his 
hair fell to his shoulders, terminating abruptly, as 
by one sharp cut from the barber’s shears. His per- 
son was enveloped in a flowing cape, bearing on the 
lower left-hand border the insignia of the corpora- 
tion of pastry cooks of the city of Chartres. When 
the crowd became aware of his presence, they 


The Sign of Triumph 


5 


quickly made a passage for him, which, following, 
he came upon the two angry bourgeois ere they 
were aware of his nearness. Seeing him, the syndic 
of their guild, both men suddenly ceased their 
clamour, and the unfortunate villain, left to himself, 
began a dazed search for his lost head-covering. 

“ How now, sirs,” demanded the newcomer, 
sternly, ‘ 1 what means this unseemly wrangle? 
Hath trade on a sudden grown so dull in the good 
town of Chartres that merchants must needs pum- 
mel each other and call ill names over the sale of a 
bean-cake? ” 

As for the chapfallen combatants, but now so 
voluble in threat to have the matter before the 
syndic, each was for leaving the other to state the 
case, both not a little shamefaced at being caught 
thus red-handed. It was not until the syndic had 
asked a second time for an explanation that they 
took courage and burst out, both at once, in a stream 
of protest and accusation. He was not long, in 
spite of the confusion, in coming at the nature of 
their dispute, and having administered a sharp 
rebuke to both parties, and bade them appear be- 
fore him the next day to hear further of the matter, 
he turned to the countryman who, making strenuous 
efforts to escape, had been kept in by the press of 
the crowd. 


6 


The Sign of Triumph 

“ Come, goodman,” he said, peremptorily, “ set- 
tle this matter for me. Where stood you when 
Master Bontemp solicited you, and with whom were 
you minded to trade? ” 

The yokel thus addressed twirled his newly recov- 
ered cap and shifted uneasily from one foot to the 
other. “ As to that, worshipful master, I have not 
wherewith to buy of any, my pouch being empty 
save for a copper coin meant for the priest, to buy 
a mass for the repose of my father’s departed soul. 
I but peered within the door of Master Bontemp’s 
shop, a-trying to stay my stomach on the rich savour 
which floated through,” answered the man, grinning 
sheepishly. 

At this the crowd began hooting and laughing, 
and the two pastry cooks, more mortified than ever, 
retired in haste into their shops, followed by the 
jeers of their neighbours. The syndic, in disgust, 
passed on, and the countryman at last made good 
his escape, while the idlers, seeing that the situa- 
tion promised nothing further of sport or excite- 
ment, soon melted away. 

Even during this little time the number of people 
in the street had increased, and continued to do so, 
augmented every minute by the thin stream of trav- 
ellers which trickled slowly but steadily into town, 
as well as by the better class of the bourgeoisie, who 


The Sign of Triumph 


7 


now came from the houses and joined the loiterers. 
All, without exception, were in holiday attire, and 
they gathered in knots, gossiping and looking appre- 
hensively toward the sky which momentarily threat- 
ened a steady downpour. Some drifted toward the 
cathedral, which stood partly finished, having been 
twice destroyed by fire, and being then in process 
of rebuilding for the third time. Others gathered 
before the inn, over whose door the rotund auber- 
gist was busy fastening a fresh green bush to his 
sign-pole. 

“ Of what use to put the green over thy door, 
neighbour ? ” questioned a roistering blade, whose 
red face and tattered garments testified to a knowl- 
edge of the subject on which he spoke. “ Hast 
thou never heard the proverb that 4 Good wine needs 
no bush ’ ? Surely thy brew is fair enough sort, 
Master Yves, to need no heralding.” 

“ Ay, true, man, and if these, my neighbours, 
were my only customers, there would be little need 
of the bush to show them the way to Yves le Bre- 
ton’s cellar, but to-day the town swarms with those 
from the country-side, and ’tis welcome to the 
stranger to know where he may find that which 
will both quench his thirst and cheer his spirit,” 
answered the innkeeper, finishing his task and de- 


8 


The Sign of Triumph 


scending from the heavy oaken stool upon which 
he had been standing. 

In the public square where stood the pillory, hav- 
ing on its front the armorial bearings of the Count 
of Chartres, there were preparations for business, 
for here booths were being arranged for the local 
fair which was to open as soon as the religious pro- 
cession was over. For this was St. Mark’s Day, the 
day of the Black Crosses, when priest and people 
walked in solemn procession through the streets, 
with black draped crosses borne aloft before them, 
chanting the sorrow-laden words of the litany, and 
supplicating mercy in behalf of the Christians be- 
leaguered in the Holy Land. This service, also 
in commemoration of those who had already fallen 
in the crusades, was now being used at the command 
of the Pope to arouse the indifference o>f the people 
to another effort in behalf of the Holy Sepulchre. 

After the manner of the thrifty bourgeoisie, who 
were obliged by law to close their shops just when 
the religious ceremonial had attracted larger cus- 
tom to the town, it had become a practice to open 
a market in the square, and thus turn even their 
pious deeds to good account. 

While the few merchants thus made their prep- 
arations for gain, and the citizens waited the pro- 
cession, weighing the chance of escaping the threat- 


The Sign of Triumph 


9 


ened deluge, the guard, who usually held his watch 
from the lookout above the south gate of the city, 
had descended from his place and stood beneath 
the deep arch of the gateway, where he could give 
jovial greeting to such of the incomers as were old 
acquaintances. Standing so, resting upon his hal- 
berd, which he carried more for form's sake, or 
as a sign of his office, rather than for use, his eyes 
were caught by the sight of a lad who had paused 
just beyond the drawbridge in the middle of the 
highway, his gaze riveted in fascinated horror on 
the ghastly remains of two human bodies swinging 
from the gibbet hard by on the hill. The rising 
wind which stirred them also set in motion the 
flock of crows that frequented the spot ; they drifted 
around, and again settled on their prey like a wind- 
stirred cloud of black. At the sound of the deaf- 
ening chorus of caws which they emitted, and the 
sight of the swaying bodies, which seemed to beckon 
him to join their fleshless company, the boy gave a 
strong shudder. 

“ Ay, ’tis a pretty sight and one most fit for 
young eyes. Look long upon it, and lay its lesson 
well to heart, lest thou come some day to swing 
there thyself," admonished the guard, seeing the 
boy’s stare of fixed horror. 

At the sound of the soldier’s voice, the child 


IO 


The Sign of Triumph 


seemed to waken as from a dream, yet without hav- 
ing comprehended the words addressed to him. He 
loosed his fascinated gaze, and, turning toward the 
drawbridge, crossed it, pausing before the big guard, 
who looked down on him curiously, attracted by an 
unusual something in his appearance. He was 
about twelve years of age and not very well grown, 
for both body and face had a narrow, pinched look, 
which spoke loudly of scant food. He wore leath- 
ern braies and a loose smock of sheepskin ending 
just at the knee. This was belted about the waist 
with a bit of leather. His head was covered by a 
cap of sheepskin, from which much of the wool had 
been worn and torn away, its grimy colour attest- 
ing long use. A shepherd’s staff in his hand an- 
nounced his occupation, and his rough hide buskins, 
splashed by mud and grimed by dust, told a keen 
observer that he had walked far and passed through 
both bog and upland. 

“ A runaway hind, I dare be sworn,” muttered 
the guard, as he gazed on the slight figure and met 
the lad’s deep-set, dark eyes, which seemed to look 
inward rather than outward. 

“ Is there yet time, or have I come too late ? ” 
questioned the child, eagerly, his expectant face 
trembling between hope and fear. 

“ Time and to spare, thou runaway. The fair 


The Sign of Triumph n 

begins not ’til the litany is said. But have a care 
lest thy master catch thee, for then thou wilt come 
to think that thou hast paid too great a price for 
thy fairing,” advised the man, stirred for an in- 
stant to pity at sight of the meagre, weary-looking 
little figure. 

“ Nay, sir, ’tis not for the fair that I came; ’tis 
to see the Black Crosses and hear of the Crusades. 
Hast thou taken the cross ? ” He put the question 
in a tone which implied that anybody who could 
certainly would. 

“ Get you gone with your talk of Crusades and 
Crusaders,” cried the man, angrily, his brief spark 
of pity blown out by the introduction of an irri- 
tating subject. “ As if, indeed, the land had not 
bled enough of men and money that priests must 
needs cry more. Get you gone, I say, get you 
gone ! ” he repeated his command, working himself 
swiftly into a passion as he spoke. He had even 
raised his hand, with the intention of enforcing his 
order by a smart blow, when his descending arm 
was caught and held fast from behind, and a jovial 
voice admonished him in laughing tones: “Nay, 
nay, comrade, take a man of thine own mettle ; ” 
then, to the little hind who stood dazed and fright- 
ened at the guard’s sudden outburst, too used to 


12 


The Sign of Triumph 


blows to attempt any avoidance of them : “ Let's 
see how fleet thy heels are. Go.” 

The words were scarcely spoken before the child, 
galvanized into life, darted away, and, turning a 
corner of the masonry, was lost to view in a second. 

In the meantime, the soldier had rounded fiercely 
on the interferer with his authority, to meet the 
laughing eyes of the man who held him. His anger 
fled instantly and a look of jovial welcome suc- 
ceeded it. 

The newcomer was tall above his fellows, of a 
spare, powerful build, with not an ounce of super- 
fluous flesh to cover his sinews. His eyes were 
blue under black lashes, and their habitual look 
was one of alert watchfulness, as if quickness and 
courage were the safeguards of life for him. The 
face was strong and for the most part refined, though 
weather and hard living and perhaps a thought 
too much of freedom with the wine-flagon had 
blurred the fair outline and overlaid it with some- 
thing of coarseness. It was as if one faring on a 
hard journey had picked up much of the mud and 
dust of the highways; yet, so far, it was but sur- 
face dirt and easy of removal. His costume was 
full of incongruities, and, by it, it would have been 
hard to> say in what station in life he belonged. His 
cote, of which the sleeves only were visible, was 


The Sign of Triumph 


13 


of ordinary linsey-woolsey, while the cote-hardie of 
rich red cloth had a powdering of gold embroidery 
strewn over its surface. His legs were clad in braies 
of leather, such as were worn by the commonest, 
and his extremely pointed shoes, tied about the 
ankle with blue bands, though of finest cordua 
leather, were broken on the sides, and served but 
ill to keep out the wet. His belt and purse were of 
better sort, and, although the scabbard of his sword 
was worn and scarred, the blade shone like a lady’s 
jewel and gave evidence of extreme and loving care. 
His head was covered by a cap of cloth, in the left 
side of which he had jauntily stuck a gray eagle’s 
feather. Over one shoulder he carried a long chape 
de pluie, much the worse for wear and weather. 
His cote-hardie, his shoes, his belt, purse, and sword 
had been obtained when fortune smiled upon him; 
the rest of his wardrobe he had come by when the 
fickle dame, frowning, had refused to see his need. 
In spite of this, the man triumphed in some sort 
over his clothing, and wore his mixed costume with 
an air which almost harmonized its incongruities. 

“ Mort de ma vie , ’tis 1’ Anglais, ’tis the good Tal- 
bot himself. I give thee hearty welcome, comrade ; 
thou hast not fared this road for many a day, not 
since Michaelmas, if memory doth not serve me 
ill,” exclaimed the soldier, who had grasped the 


14 


The Sign of Triumph 


newcomer by both shoulders, and shook him from 
time to time as he spoke by way of emphasizing 
his speech. Suddenly he stopped, a cloud dimming 
the welcoming sunshine of his countenance. 

“ Art thou also come to join in this mumming 
of priests, which is but meant to trick the people 
to another Crusade ? ” he asked, suspiciously. 

“ Nay, Huguet, not I. I journey to Orleannois, 
where there is soon to be a great tourney, and where 
men of my sort can pick up good service, or, at 
worst, a few gold coins at dice if Fortune happen 
to smile, and i’ faith, if the lady look not with fa- 
vour upon me soon, beneath my cloak will be but 
out-of-doors/’ answered the other, stretching his 
chape de pluie across his arm, the better to display 
its many rents, which he further brought to notice 
by thrusting his fingers through. 

Huguet grinned appreciatively. He understood 
this state full well, since it had been his quite half 
of the time before he took service with the city of 
Chartres and settled down to domesticity. 

“ I’ll be sworn if Fortune frowns upon thee, she 
is the only jade who does. What hast thou done 
with the pretty callet who was with thee when last 
thou didst journey this way? ” he questioned, thump- 
ing Noel playfully on the chest. 

“ Another took her from me, and I wear mourn- 


The Sign of Triumph 15 

in g for her still,” rejoined his companion, pulling 
a long face and pretending to look doleful, at which 
they both burst out into a guffaw of senseless laugh- 
ter. “ But what is this that has so roused thine ire 
about the Crusades, man?” questioned Noel, when 
their coarse merriment was somewhat abated. 

Huguet’s ready frown wrinkled his brow and 
dulled the smile on his ruddy face. “ Tis of this 
mumming of priests, with their Black Crosses, 
which goes forward in the town to-day, and all to 
what purpose? Because, forsooth, the Pope has 
decreed another Crusade. As if the land had not 
bled enough in such cause. ’Tis well-nigh ex- 
hausted now, nor will they rest content until they 
have stripped all, not leaving a man even his belt, 
a woman her necklace, a noble his ring, or, in fact, 
aught of value even to a Jew.” 

“ Huguet, thou turncoat dog, thou art wearing 
the other side of thy cloak out since last I saw thee. 
Then, thou wast all for the Crusades, and I was but 
a lack-blooded fellow because I would not join thee 
and go overseas. When thou art off duty here, 
meet me under good Master Yves’s green bush, and 
there over a flagon and the dice-cups I’ll gladly 
repeat to thee thy sounding arguments as to why 
a man should buckle on harness and away to the 
Holy Land. Aye, Huguet, I have a rare memory 


i6 


The Sign of Triumph 


for such wisdom, as thou’lt see this eve,” exclaimed 
the traveller, clapping his friend’s shoulder with 
good-natured force. 

But, for some reason, this simple proposition 
seemed to embarrass the big soldier, who, in trying 
to reject the invitation, stuttered and stammered, 
looking in every direction except fairly into the 
eyes of his astonished companion. Finally, with 
a mighty effort, he blurted out: 

“ I fear that cannot be, comrade. My dame hath 
small liking for Master Yves’s hostel, and holds 
the belief beside that, when candle-time comes, 
’twere better for honest folk to be at home and 
abed.” 

“ Ho, ho, ho ! Ha, ha, ha ! ” roared the other, 
administering a poke which might have endangered 
the ribs of a smaller man. “ Sits the wind in that 
quarter, man? And so the turn of thy coat is not 
for love of thy bleeding country, but for love of a 
wench. Ah, Huguet, thou sad dog to so deceive 
me. So thou hast gotten thy neck into that halter, 
and henceforth will be led, lamblike, to browse in 
quiet fields, safe guarded from the danger of pas- 
turage ’neath Master Yves’s green bush. Poor dog, 
poor devil. No more wine and wenches, no more 
godale and dice. Every eve to creep dry and sober 
to thy virtuous couch. Huguet, Huguet, how has 


The Sign of Triumph 17 

it come that thou hast fallen on this evil estate. 
Twill not be many days before ’tis — 

“ * Ride away, ride away. 

Jog by thy sire the livelong day; ' ” 

and Noel swung his leg suggestively, as one does 
when he sets a child riding on his foot. 

Huguet stood grinning like a great gawking 
fool, ill liking the banter, yet scarce knowing how 
to turn it aside. He was not yet so completely 
tamed that this summing up of his new state and 
contrasting it with his old had not a few pangs for 
him, and he even balanced the question of asserting 
his fast waning authority, and going to meet his 
comrade, despite his good dame’s disapproval. For- 
tunately for the peace of the newly made family, 
another comer at the gate diverted him for a minute 
with a word or two of greeting, and when he turned 
again to meet Noel’s laughing look, he had gathered 
sufficient wit to steer the conversation into other 
channels, which he did by inquiring if his friend 
still held service under the Count of Guibert. 

“ That I do not,” answered Talbot, with a strong 
expletive to strengthen his denial. “ ’Tis no serv- 
ice, save for the meanest. He wants not honest 
routiers, but letchers, dish-lickers, hangers-on, ready 
for any shameful work. I stand ready to serve my 


i8 


The Sign of Triumph 


lord, whoever he may be, most faithfully, in fight- 
ing out his quarrels, private or public, or even in 
helping him to enforce right of aubaine on the thiev- 
ing merchants who would cheat him an they could, 
but I wear no assassin’s knife, nor will I come to do 
service as a procurer. I have no stomach for such 
tasks, and would rather roam the road as I do now, 
free and hungry, than bind me to such a fellow.” 

“ Why not take service here, friend, with the 
good city of Chartres? They are but now adding 
to the force of soldiery, for that the merchants of 
the town protest ’gainst doing guard duty in the 
lookout tower, saying that it entails upon them too 
great loss of time from their respective occupations, 
and ’twere better to pay a few stout fellows whose 
trade it is to fight. I have some influence with the 
syndics of the place, and can say a word which will 
ensure thy engagement. Say that thou wilt have 
it so; ’twill be a happy day for me, comrade,” cried 
the big fellow, his eyes alight at thought of this 
companionship. 

But Noel unhesitatingly negatived his proposi- 
tion. “ Nay, man, ’tis too colourless a life for me, 
for these worthy burgers have no mind for fighting 
unless upon the defensive, and I have not yet grown 
so old that I am ready to seek my hole, and never 
war save when put to it by a bolder blade. Besides 


The Sign of Triumph 


19 


the which, Huguet, I have thy sorrowful plight 
ever before me, and unless I am minded to do as 
thou hast done, it were well to outrun temptation by 
staying so short a time at a place that ’twould take 
a most fleet wench to slip the noose over my head. 
I am not minded yet to be caught ; some day — nay, 
I will not say even so much, for never yet have I 
seen woman for whom I would resign my freedom 
or bind me to a dull fireside.” 

Some time longer the conversation at the gate 
lasted, interrupted now and again by a straggler 
from the road, a villain in holiday garb accompanied 
by his sturdy dame, eager to see the religious pro- 
cession and have her small fairing afterward, a 
merry man with a tame bear in leading, intent upon 
by and by coaxing a few coins from the worthy 
bourgeoisie by clever tricks and no less clever quips, 
a travelling merchant of the poorer sort, bearing his 
pack on his back, others, higher in the scale, leading 
a patient donkey, who bore his full panniers with 
long-accustomed ease, and took the necessary prod- 
ding of his flanks as if it were all set down in the 
day’s business. 

When Noel at last parted from his companion 
and made his way into the town, the procession 
had already begun, and he heard faintly at a dis- 
tance the chanting of the priests. Clearer and 


20 


The Sign of Triumph 

clearer it came, and more distinct, as his hurrying 
feet gained rapidly on the slow moving crowd. At 
length a turn in the way brought it in sight, and 
down the narrow street he saw, borne aloft in the 
hands of the crucifer, a large wooden crucifix draped 
with a black cloth, which the wind caught and sent 
rippling backward, revealing the stark figure be- 
neath like the drawn sheet over the waiting dead. 
Following this walked priests and monks in habits 
of black, with feet bare and bowed heads uncovered, 
while the unison of male voices, sweet and harsh, 
deep and high, carried the burden of the sorrowful 
supplication, “ Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie 
eleison, Christe audi nos, Christe exaudi nos .” 

Noel heard the solemn words, borne from him 
though they were by the sullen spring breeze, and 
stopped with intent eyes fastened on the advancing 
procession. 

“ Deus miserere nobis, Sancta Maria, ora pro 
nobis, Sancta Dei Genetrix, ora pro nobis, Sancta 
Virgo Virginum, ora pro nobis, Sancte Michael, 
ora pro nobis,” on and on, through the list of saints 
and angels, the priest’s voice calling, the people 
answering with their iterant cry, “ Ora pro nobis, 
ora pro nobis,” which swelled and diminished, dying 
on the air like a note from the deep pipe of an organ 
under the fingers of a loving player. 


The Sign of Triumph 


21 


The length of the procession had passed before 
the man moved. He watched priests and monks 
with down-bent heads and pious looks ; fat and sleek 
merchants of the corporation, trying to pull sober 
faces to suit the occasion, doubtless with minds 
intent on a good bargain to be driven on the mor- 
row, or a calculation as to the smallest sum they 
dare give to the cause in hand, without rousing the 
denunciation of the clergy; sweet-faced maidens, 
who would gladly see knight and soldier start forth 
on the Crusades, forgetful in their love of martial 
splendour of the hardships to which they gaily bade 
their lovers go; older women, too, some who had 
seen the bright beginning and sad ending of an- 
other Crusade, but who had learned no lesson by 
it; others whose pious act was not prompted by 
desire to move any to attempt this well-nigh impos- 
sible task, but merely in commemoration of those 
who had already shed their blood and lay in for- 
gotten graves under other and hotter suns. 

When all had gone by, Noel turned and followed 
amongst those who fringed the crowd. He could 
not have told why he did so. He was dimly moved 
by a certain dramatic beauty in the pageant, with- 
out in any way grasping its religious significance. 
Something in those supplicating voices thrilled him 
in spite of himself, and the eeriness of that half- 


22 


The Sign of Triumph 


revealed, half-concealed, figure on the cross attracted 
and held him. He followed through one narrow 
street and another until, the round of the little town 
having been made, and every saint in the long cal- 
endar invoked, the litany was chanted to its end, 
and the veiled cross was borne to the door of the 
cathedral, where, the procession ended, the monk 
Clement took his position on the steps, the cross 
at his back, ready to begin his sermon. 

His opening sentences were spoken quietly, but 
there was an intensity even in his restraint, which 
held the people by its promise of moving oratory. 
He first pictured the ardour of those who in times 
past had gone forth to war for the Holy Sepulchre. 
He lauded their zeal and self-sacrifice, while he so 
surrounded his picture with the charm of military 
splendour that one could hear the chink of harness, 
the fret of impatient, pawing steeds, the blare of 
trumpets, and see the very flash of sunlight on pol- 
ished chamfron and gay-coloured pennon. He 
stirred the blood of the most sluggish, and made 
even the stolid prentice boys momentarily long for 
horse and harness rather than bench and tools. 
From this bright picture, where death was so over- 
laid with glory that it seemed a state to be desired, 
he passed quickly to the sufferings of those now 
beleaguered in the few cities which still remained in 


The Sign of Triumph 


23 


Christian hands. He told of some pining in igno- 
minious slavery to heathen masters, of others starv- 
ing in the besieged towns. He pictured their wan 
faces turned reproachfully toward Christian lands, 
their lean hands stretched forth in supplication, and, 
when he had the hearts of his hearers soft with 
pity, he poured forth vivid threat and invective 
against those who turned deaf ears to this appeal, 
and glowing promises to those who heard and 
heeded. 

During this time Noel had lingered on the out- 
skirts of the crowd, held in thrall by the monk’s 
vivid word-painting. At the description of the 
Crusaders in all their splendour, his heart thrilled 
within him, remembering as he did how his father 
had ridden forth with the great Richard himself, 
not as a common soldier, but as a baron with a 
goodly following of men-at-arms. He had lived 
to return, to die in his own land, and, as he recalled 
this, there surged over Noel a wave of bitter mem- 
ory. He saw himself again a lad of fourteen, in 
the strong old castle of Waldeck, his father but 
newly dead, and he, child as he was, already try- 
ing to lift and bear the burdens too early fallen 
on him. Then he recalled that blackest day of his 
life, when he had stood beside the open lattice, filled 
with boyish curiosity in regard to the two knights 


24 


The Sign of Triumph 


and their following, who had but now summoned 
the castle and were clattering over the drawbridge 
and into the court. 

Full soon he knew the evil errand upon which they 
came, when, standing beside his newly widowed 
mother, he heard them, in the name of King John, 
take possession of Waldeck Castle and all the land 
thereto appertaining. He heard the dastardly claim 
behind which the king sheltered himself in this 
open act of thieving, that Gerard Talbot had left 
no heir, that he, Noel Talbot, was not his father’s 
child, but a nameless by-blow of God knows who. 
He saw again that look of rigid horror on his 
mother’s face, as one by one came false witnesses, 
whom she had never before seen, to swear away her 
honour and her son’s heritage. Again her words of 
righteous wrath sounded clearly in his ears, as she 
called God to witness her innocence and strike dead 
her accusers. Since that awful hour Noel had held 
but a light belief in the justice of a God who had 
failed to hear and heed that cry; in fact, he much 
doubted if there were such a being, and, if there 
were, it mattered little to him. He held himself 
exempt from any duty toward one who, being pow- 
erful, had so failed. Three days later he stood beside 
his mother’s bier; the blow had killed her. After 
this had come those days in the monastery, where 


25 


The Sign of Triumph 

King John, pricked ever so little in his conscience, 
had placed him. But be a monk he would not, and 
from there he had escaped to the roadways to pick 
up a living as best he might. After this he saw him- 
self in many scenes, sometimes joined to a band of 
half-drunken routiers, learning thus early the feel of 
a brimming tankard at his lips, and the dice-cups in 
his hands. If there had been any vice at which he 
stopped short, it was not for lack of being shown 
the way. He had drunk long and deeply at the 
polluted stream, and had but a short code for his 
guidance: to fight fair, and play fair, to honour 
a woman who honoured herself, and to strike a 
ready blow in a child's defence. Beyond this, he 
counted the world, in all its sin and joy, his, to get 
from it all that he could compass. The unjust fate 
which had fallen upon him had not embittered his 
nature, though there were hours in his life, such 
as this, when the gall-bags burst and flooded his 
soul with hatred. If he had been a better man, 
he would have been a more bitter one ; as it was, he 
held himself to have failed in so much that he was 
not hard upon the wrong-doings even of his worst 
enemy. He had let slip some virtue, and much 
bitterness, and, holding fast to laughter, had kept 
his nature sweet. 

These, then, were the memories that were con- 


26 


The Sign of Triumph 


jured into life by the fiery eloquence of the preacher, 
and they stirred Noel for the time to savage anger 
against every human creature, because they put 
him back into that helpless boyhood, and awoke 
the old feeling that he stood alone against the com- 
bined forces of the world. So it happened that, 
when some one in the crowd jostled him rudely, 
he turned fiercely, ready on the instant for a word 
and a blow, with the blow to fall first. Instead of 
facing some burly and impertinent fellow of his 
own size, he looked down into the pinched counte- 
nance and far-away eyes of the little hind in whose 
behalf he had lately made light interference. The 
boy was so intent upon straining his meagre figure 
upward to catch a glimpse of the speaker between 
the shoulders of the shifting crowd that he was 
utterly oblivious of the fact that he had overbal- 
anced himself and stumbled against Noel. The 
savage ugliness died from the man’s face as soon 
as he recognized the child’s effort and its futility. 
Without a word, he caught the little fellow from 
behind, lifting him until his head was above the 
crowd. The boy began to struggle. 

“ Let me be, let me be,” he cried in petulant fear. 
“ I have done thee no hurt.” 

Noel, giving no heed to his piping protest, raised 


The Sign of Triumph 


27 


him higher; he set his arm to hold him firmly. 
“ Canst thou see now ? ” was all that he said. 

At last understanding the act, and struck with 
amazement by it, the child succeeded in turning 
about. He was too much astonished for spoken 
gratitude, but his look said more than words. For 
an instant the man gazed fairly into the great, dark 
eyes and small, pinched face that he was to see 
again under such widely different circumstances. 

He was but a slight weight, and Noel held him 
thus above the crowd until the sermon was ended, 
utterly unmindful of the muddy little buskins which 
were adding their quota of dirt to that already 
accumulated by his wayworn garments. 

At length the monk ended, after a fiery perora- 
tion, and, having pronounced a few words of bene- 
diction over the reverently bent heads of the people, 
preceded by the crucifer and followed by the priests, 
he entered the doorway of the unfinished building. 
The crowd began to break instantly. Noel set the 
boy on his feet again, detaining him a moment by 
the arm, when, still wary of such unwonted kind- 
ness, he tried to slip away. The man’s fingers 
sought for a stray copper coin, which he thrust 
into the fist of the little fellow. “ Take that and 
get thee a fairing before going home,” he com- 
manded, and, not waiting for the astonished child 


28 The Sign of Triumph 

to gather his dull wits sufficiently to realize his 
windfall, he turned away to seek shelter, for the 
lowering sky was beginning to keep its promise 
of the morning, and heavy drops were pattering 
on the earth. 

I hardly know whether he would have smiled or 
frowned had he seen the lad, not many minutes 
later, deposit the gift in the coffer set ready by the 
church door, where the faithful might drop a coin 
in aid of the Crusades. 

That night a little hind crept into his hovel home 
at Cloyes, drenched, footsore, and weary, but so 
full of dreams that fatigue was forgotten, and even 
the sound drubbing which to-morrow surely held 
in store for him had no power to frighten him, nor 
to make him regret his stolen day. 


CHAPTER II. 

During the morning, while the low-hanging, 
heavy clouds gathered weight of moisture for the 
deluge which was to follow, while the people jostled 
each other in the streets waiting the sight of the 
black-draped crosses and chanting priests, at Maitre 
Yves le Breton’s there were signs of unusual bustle 
and preparation. This inn, abutting directly upon 
the thoroughfare, stood in one of the narrow streets 
leading from the square, and immediately opposite 
to the Hotel de Ville. The two sharp peaks of its 
double roof were so high that they seemed almost 
to cleave the low scudding clouds. At one side, under 
an arch, a roadway led to the court at the back. 
Here in the stables ample grain was stored, so that 
the wayfarer’s beast found no less generous enter- 
tainment without, than did his master within doors. 
Entering the building from the front, one stepped 
immediately into the living-room, which term was 
more literally descriptive then than now, for here 
the food was cooked and served, here the traveller 


29 


30 


The Sign of Triumph 


drank and diced when supper was over, and here, 
in beds set into the wall and shut away by heavy 
stuff or leathern curtains, he also slept, when, weary 
with drink and gaming, he was ready to seek rest. 
The living-room of Yves le Breton’s inn was about 
sixty feet long by thirty wide, and had at each 
end a deep, huge, hooded fireplace. Overhead the 
heavy beams, taking on a dark, rich colour from 
smoke and age, promised in time to become quite 
black. Under the overhanging hood of the fire- 
place nearest the entrance were gathered a number 
of oaken benches, also blackened by time and use. 
These were flanked by two long tables of the same 
wood, upheld from beneath by heavy crossed legs, 
their ponderous proportions rendering them prac- 
tically stationary. A few lighter three-cornered 
stools, having one wide leg at the base of the 
triangle and a small one at its point, were littered 
about, evidently more used because of the ease with 
which they could be handled. At the opposite end, 
about the lower chimney, there were hung upon 
hooks driven into the masonry pots and caldrons 
of burnished copper, long-handled pans, flesh-hooks, 
and everything which suggested preparation for the 
satisfaction of the inner man. To the left of this 
fireplace stood the oven, built of stone and furnished: 
with heavy doors of roughly wrought iron. The 


The Sign of Triumph 


31 


rafters above this part of the room threatened just 
such a deluge of good things as Chaucer tells of 
in the house of the franklin, for here hung ropes 
of dried fruit, and sausages, bunches of dried fennel, 
parsley, garlic, and onions; hams, whose juicy 
richness promised toothsome eating, flitches of 
bacon, smoke-dried venison, and even a trussed 
goose and a fine fat capon, while on the stays to 
one side of the room two small barrels were already 
set, and Maitre Yves himself was busily directing 
and overseeing his prentice boy in placing two more 
in position. 

Dinner was already preparing, and over the fire 
a copper caldron bubbled and spluttered, the lid 
dancing like a pair of badly played castanets. Before 
the fire sat a little lad, busily engaged in whirling 
a spit upon which two fowls were browning slowly, 
sending forth appetite-provoking odours. From 
time to time, having first cast a furtive glance about 
to find himself unobserved, the boy would care- 
fully wet his finger to protect it from the hot grease, 
and, having smeared it deftly over the sides of 
the roasting fowls, transfer it quickly to his mouth 
with a suck of appreciative satisfaction. So quick 
and careful had he become from long practice, that 
the good dame, who bustled about at her tasks, 
now on this side, now on that, never detected his 


32 


The Sign of Triumph 


feasting. Sometimes, too sorely tempted, he even 
went the length of pulling away a straggling bit 
of skin, browned to' a crisp by the hot fire, but for 
the most part he confined his depredations to the 
rich, hot grease which oozed from the sides of the 
capon. 

As for the goodwife, she seemed to be every- 
where at once, now stirring the contents of the 
caldron, now turning the fish, which broiled on a 
trivet over a bed of coals, now flinging wide the 
heavy oven doors, and, with a long implement like 
a flat shovel, removing the thin hot loaves of bread 
and placing them on the table to cool. Between 
her many tasks she found time to direct the labours 
of a slim, black-eyed wench, whose business it was 
to help morning and evening with the work of the 
inn, and during the day to drive a flock of geese 
to pasturage without the town walls. 

It was evident to the observer of a moment, that 
the girl needed as much driving as her geese, if 
any real service were to be gotten from her, though 
she was quick enough at casting inviting looks 
toward any male creature who happened in sight, 
and kept the lank and sallow prentice boy dividing 
his hungry looks between her undeveloped charms 
and the savoury browning fowl on the whirling 
spit. Nor was she loath to use her voice in silly 


33 


The Sign of Triumph 

question or sillier laughter. She received scant 
encouragement, however, did her lagging steps 
chance to cross those of her mistress, for the good 
woman carried a sharp tongue and was not slow 
to use it. But even this well digested knowledge 
could not entirely deter Flamel, and talk she would, 
and idle she did, if a moment were allowed her. 

“ Oh, mistress, I had such an evil dream last 
night. I thought mine eye-tooth was loose and I 
did thrust it forth with my tongue. What think 
you that it doth portend? ” Flamel questioned 
eagerly in one such pause. 

“ It foretelleth the loss of a friend/’ answered 
the good wife, caught in the snare, for she had much 
pride in her knowledge of such points. “ Ay, it 
foretelleth the loss of a friend, and I well believe 
the omen, for thou art ever so full of prattle that 
thou wilt yet thrust out thy best friend with thy 
silly tongue.” At which the girl looked not a little 
crestfallen, and the boy at the spit, between whom 
and Flamel there was constant warfare, sniggered 
audibly. 

The girl retired discomfited into the shadow of 
the oven, where she was shortly joined by the hungry 
prentice boy. Here a few moments later the mistress 
fell upon them in right good earnest, and two re- 
sounding blows could be heard through the room. 


34 


The Sign of Triumph 


“ Take this for thyself and that for thy fellow/’ 
cried the irate dame, catching the girl by the arm 
and dragging her from hiding, while with a heavy- 
handed blow she sent the prentice boy spinning 
across the room, barely able by an effort to keep 
his feet. “ Out upon thee, with thy kissing in cor- 
ners, thou shameless wench ! ” exclaimed the woman, 
angrily. “ Never is my back turned so much as 
a minute, but thou art dispensing thy light favours. 
If thou have not done with it, ’twill end thee as a 
common roadside drab. Twice a’ready hast thou 
been the cause of brawling in the inn, bringing a bad 
name upon us with the sober townspeople, and all 
because thou couldst not make thy choice of lovers 
and cleave to one, but must needs whiffle and change 
thy mind because a prettier fellow came after. I’ll 
give thee to know if thou dost ever bring dissension 
here again, out thou goest, to the streets. I have 
but kept thee for charity’s sake, for thou art not 
of the value of the salt in thy pottage, and my pa- 
tience is well-nigh run dry with thee,” and the 
woman finished her harangue with another stinging 
blow on the girl’s cheek, a blow which set her whim- 
pering afresh, though not so greatly as to stop her 
ready tongue. 

“ Thou art laying blame on me for naught, good 
mother,” she protested between sobs. “ I gave no 


The Sign of Triumph 


35 


kiss to Jacques; as Our Lady hears me I did not; 
he held me and took it perforce, and what could I, 
a weak woman, in the hands of a man ? ” 

This statement was so absurd on its face that 
it moved even Maitre Yves, who had been a silent 
but interested spectator, to uproarious mirth. It 
but incensed the dame the more, and her fat face 
became so suffused with purple that apoplexy 
seemed imminent. 

“ Thou drab, thou callet, thou lying slattern,” 
she spluttered, coming to her breath at last. “ Dost 
call that a man, that to force favours from any 
woman,” and she pointed a scornful finger toward 
the chapfallen undersized boy, who was making 
himself as small as possible in the hope of escaping 
further comment. In truth, looking from Flamel’s 
slim but ample height to the lad’s feeble figure, the 
idea fully merited the derision poured upon it. 
“ ’Tis more to be believed that thou didst seize and 
kiss him, thou silly fool. Get you gone to your 
tasks. Prepare the board for dinner, for even now 
our guests arrive, and think scorn to see such be- 
haviour in a respectable hostel.” 

It was even as the goodwife said, during the 
row at the other end of the room, a few men who 
had come in quietly watched the scene with interest 
and amusement. 


36 


The Sign of Triumph 


When, therefore, Flamel began to lay the board 
and bring cup and flagon ready for the meal, she 
must needs bear a good deal of coarse jesting from 
the men, and not a few offers which spoke loudly 
for the girl’s reputation. These she met with a 
toss of the head and a look which held as much 
of invitation as rejection, and it was but a little 
time before she was eyes deep in an affair with a 
heavy-set, black-bearded man, whom his companions 
addressed as Nicholas, and who laughed loudly 
and swore lustily at everything and anything when- 
ever he had his nose out of the ale-pot. 

Flamel fluttered nearer and more often about this 
not wonderful light, and it became evident that 
she meant to singe her silly wings in it sooner or 
later. Nicholas bore the jesting of his comrades 
in regard to this marked preference with a com- 
placence which showed that such favour was not 
usual. He even joined in to keep the jests going, 
did they show signs of flagging, and in many other 
ways he discovered to the onlooker his gratified 
vanity. 

Outside, the rain was coming down in torrents, 
and every newcomer who entered did so as if pur- 
sued to the threshold by devils, and, once within, 
stopped abruptly to dash the water from his cloth- 
ing, shaking out a little shower of drops from his 


37 


The Sign of Triumph 

cap before he joined the circle about the fire, which 
grew and grew, until the smell of drying wool and 
leather began to mingle with the odour of goose, 
onion pottage and sweet cakes, threatening to over- 
power it altogether. 

At last the steaming caldron was transferred to 
the table, and the hungry guests had ranged them- 
selves about the board, each with a pewter bowl 
of pottage before him, and a brimming pot at his 
elbow of wine, godale, or whatever brew his taste 
dictated. 

Again the door was thrown violently open, to 
discover our friend of the morning on the threshold. 

“ Have in, man, have in, ’tis no time for a dog 
to be abroad,” exclaimed good Maitre Yves, who 
stood near, intent on the comfort of his guests; 
then, recognizing in the dripping wayfarer an old 
friend, he burst out : “ Monsieur l’Anglais, thou art 
indeed well come, and I give thee hearty greeting. 
Lend a hand, Jacques, and take his worship’s chape 
de pluie, and thou, my lord, draw near the fire 
and warm thyself ere thou dost sit at meat,” and 
Yves bustled about as he had done for no other, 
obsequious of manner and speech, bestowing a dif- 
ferent title with every breath, and acknowledging 
in all that he said and did a recognition of the wide 
difference betwixt this man and his other guests. 


38 


The Sign of Triumph 


After a few minutes spent before the blazing fire, 
Noel joined the others at table, drawing up a stool, 
as it happened, exactly opposite to the black-browed 
Nicholas, who was growing more and more pot- 
valiant with each potation, and whose amour with 
Flamel had reached such a point that, each time the 
girl flitted near, he flung a burly arm about her, 
and made her pay toll in resounding smacks ere 
she was let to> go> about her duties. 

It was Maitre Yves himself who fetched the pot 
of sack which Noel called for, and he stood behind 
him full of question and solicitude as the English- 
man helped himself to the bountiful fare and began 
a hearty meal. 

“ And Monsieur Talbo’ is for the tourney at 
Orleannois ? Of a surety ’twill be a grand showing. 
’Tis said that the king himself will be there, and 
the Duke of Burgundy, though I dare be sworn 
neither will appear without a goodly following. 
His Majesty is not a little restive at the high- 
headedness of this too powerful vassal. There are 
some who affirm that were Philip one whit less the 
man he is, France would shortly be Burgundian.” 

“ Ay, but Philip is Philip, and not the man to 
lose aught that his hand hath once surely grasped. 
Let Burgundy beware lest France be not augmented 
at his expense, say I,” returned Noel, absently, for 


The Sign of Triumph 


39 


he was just then becoming aware that Flamel’s eyes 
were fixed on him, and that her wavering favour 
was turning from Nicholas to himself. 

When the meal was finished, as it shortly was, 
the tables were cleared of all save cups and flagons ; 
these were generously replenished, and the dice^- 
cups brought forth. 

Some few of the men returned to the fire, but 
most, even those who did not join the game, re- 
mained seated about the board or standing behind 
the combatants. Nicholas was loud in his challenge 
of any who desired to play at tables, and Noel, who 
had been amongst the first to announce his desire 
to dice, found himself pitted against the fellow, a 
thing little to' his liking. He seated himself, how- 
ever, with a slight shrug, which was his customary 
way of accepting most things which he did not like, 
and, soon deep in play, he saw the coins before him 
grow and grow, while Nicholas drank more, swore 
more, and lost more with each game. 

Some of the bystanders undertook to rally him 
upon his losses, and one reminded him that to be 
fortunate at love was to be a sure loser at dice, 
to which he answered with a burst of drunken 
laughter, and a sudden lunge behind him toward 
where Flamel stood casting inviting glances over 
his head at his more fortunate adversary. Having 


40 


The Sign of Triumph 


given the girl a bearlike hug and a few resounding 
kisses, which she, so soon as she was set free, wiped 
off with a disgusted air, casting a sidelong glance 
at Noel to see if he observed her, Nicholas returned 
tO' his play, vowing that now he would have better 
luck. But of the little interlude behind he had been 
entirely unconscious, and was far from realizing 
that both love and fortune were forsaking him. 
Still he lost, and what with his losses and his pota- 
tions, his temper was growing more and more un- 
certain. At last, with a sudden upward look, he 
caught Noel with wine-cup raised, gazing at the 
girl, his eyes full of laughter and invitation. Nicho*- 
las was not so drunk that he did not grasp the sit- 
uation at a glance. Turning in time hr surprise 
an answering look in Flamel’s face, his anger flashed 
to white heat. With a quick move he snatched his 
short knife from his belt, and, lunging forward 
with incredible swiftness, thrust at Noel straight 
in the face. The Englishman had not seen the 
attack in time to guard himself, but he swerved 
quickly and saved himself the worst of the blow. 
The point of the weapon caught him across the 
forehead, making a double cut above the left eye. 
In an instant the blood was streaming down his 
face. 

“ Take that for thy thieving glances, thou who 


The Sign of Triumph 


41 


wouldst filch a wench’s favour from me,” cried 
the infuriated man, trying a second time to strike 
across the table, and almost falling over it in his 
top-heavy condition. 

By this time all the company had risen excitedly. 
Noel whipped out his sword, and, springing upon 
the table and down on the other side, overturned 
pot and flagon as he went, sending dice and dice-cups 
flying, ere any hand could be stretched out to stay 
him. In truth, none had tried, for this was deemed 
just cause for a quarrel, a blow having already been 
given. So the non-combatants contented themselves 
with giving room to the principals, and standing by 
to see fair play. 

At Nicholas’s first thrust Noel had turned as 
white as anger can make a man, and the rill of blood 
which poured down his face made it seem the more 
ghastly by contrast. When they crossed weapons 
it seemed in the beginning as if he intended to make 
short work with his drunken opponent, but the fact 
of his drunkenness proved to be the fellow’s salva- 
tion, for, recognizing his poor plight, Noel con- 
tented himself after a minute with guarding against 
the other’s aimless but furious attack. He could 
not resist the pleasure, however, of showing him 
how easy a matter it would be to kill him, and he 
pricked him now here, now there, this time cutting 


42 


The Sign of Triumph 


a neat gash on his cheek, the next time deftly bleed- 
ing him in the arm, once even touching his throat, 
at which the drunken wretch turned white, sobered 
by his peril. When Noel had had his fill of this 
amusement, with a sudden upward movement he 
struck his enemy’s sword-hand such a blow that the 
weapon flew from his nerveless grasp, leaving him 
disarmed and helpless. Both men sprang toward 
the fallen sword, and Noel, reaching it first, planted 
his foot grimly on it, meeting Nicholas with a blow 
which sent him kicking to the floor. 

“ Lie there, thou drunken dog, and learn in future 
not to draw weapon on thy betters,” he advised, 
contemptuously. “ As for this baggage,” and he 
caught Flamel, who had run toward him, and raised 
her to his powerful shoulder, “ I robbed thee of 
naught. I take only that which any comely fellow 
might have for the asking, or paying.” So saying, 
with a look of laughing bravado on his blood- 
stained face, and his sword still drawn to defend 
his exit in case any of the fallen bully’s friends 
thought well to interfere, he backed toward the door 
of the inn, and, opening it, was gone, carrying his 
doubtful burden with him. 






“HE BACKED TOWARD THE DOOR OF THE INN 


















































































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V 







T 

























s 












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/ 








t 






I 


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I 








♦ 

















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CHAPTER III. 


During the latter days of May in this same year 
of grace, 1212, there began to be felt throughout 
France the stirring of a new force, a force which 
had its rise in abject weakness, yet grew strong 
enough in a few short weeks to rend the hearts of 
thousands, rob the yearning arms of mothers, and 
desolate the homes of two countries. 

Could any one who watched the setting out of 
the little twelve-year-old shepherd lad, clad in his 
sheepskin smock and carrying a reed cross in his 
hand, empty of all power, his only commission a 
roll of parchment of most doubtful origin, could 
any one, I ask, have deemed it possible that in a 
few short weeks this lad would stand amidst adoring 
multitudes, who hung upon his words, struggled 
to clutch at his garments in passing, spoke of him 
in exaggerated respect as “ The Prophet,” and were 
glad when even his shadow passed over them? Yet 
such was the case. 

The town of St. Denys, where the lad preached, 


43 


44 


The Sign of Triumph 


was thronged with a multitude of people, and chil- 
dren were everywhere: children whose beaming 
eyes were alight with a new and unchildlike fire. 
Older people there were also, some of them reflect- 
ing the look on the childish faces, but most wearing 
the shadow of the bereavement which threatened 
them. And at all times and in all places there was 
endless discussion, in the home, on the street, in the 
market-place, in the shops ; men and women talked 
and argued, lost temper and called ill names, as the 
habit has been since the first difference of opinion 
came upon earth, and that was probably when Adam 
woke out of a deep sleep to find a woman beside 
him. 

“ The Prophet ! ” with a contemptuous sneer. 
“He is naught but an ignorant hind too lazy to 
tend his sheep; for ’tis a far lighter matter to wag 
his tongue before a multitude of people who have 
run mad of their own conceit, than to follow the 
flock the livelong day.” 

“ Then where got he the parchment writ to the 
king, answer me that ? He is no clerk, nor knoweth 
one letter from the next. It was the blessed Son 
of Mary Himself who gave it to the child, and he 
says but the truth in declaring it.” 

“ Ah, fool of a woman, but the king will have 
none of it, and declares it not to be the handwriting 


The Sign of Triumph 


45 


of our Lord. Think you that the king can make 
a mistake? The king knows all things.” 

“ Nay, but thou art the fool, man of sin, for never 
before hath the Lord of heaven sent a writing to the 
children of men: how then should the king know 
if it is His handiwork? ’Tis a new miracle, the 
like of which has never been seen before.” 

“ Then does the holy father Vincent say that 
which is false, for it hath not been a seven-day since 
I myself heard him tell of two' tables of stone, writ 
by the finger of God, and given to a prophet on a 
great mountain, the name of which I have mislaid 
in my head, doubtless because I hold too great con- 
verse with folk of thy little wit.” 

The woman’s answer came in a twitter of trium- 
phant laughter. “ Ah, ah, ah ! ’tis true, and yet 
doth little alter the case, for that writing of which 
the priest spoke was done by the finger of the Father, 
and this parchment which the little Prophet brings 
was traced by the hand of the Blessed Babe Himself, 
and think you that His little fingers would make 
the same marking as those of the great Father? ” 

“ The Pope hath been appealed to. The Holy 
Father will put an end to this madness, and ex- 
communicate any who hold with it. • Thou shalt 
see.” 

“ ’Tis the work of God, and will prosper.” 


46 


The Sign of Triumph 


“ ’Tis the work of the evil one, and will come 
to naught but loss and disaster.” 

“ Such words smack of heresy. Have a care 
lest trouble befall thee because of thy too ready 
tongue.” 

And SO', back and forth, day in and day out, 
blind faith arrayed against common sense, reason 
against fanaticism. And the children? They lis- 
tened to the pleading and prayers of parents, un- 
moved alike by love or anger. With the cruel 
egotism of childhood, they could see nothing except 
their own desires, which they said was the desire 
of Heaven as well. 

" Dieu le volt, Dieu le volt” was their unfailing 
reply, their unanswerable argument to every effort 
to stay them. 

There were parents, strange as it may seem 
in our day, who did not even attempt to hold the 
feet of their children from this wandering, for they, 
too, had gone mad, and believed as the little ones. 
Some few even joined the fast swelling host, but 
of these most were those whom length of days had 
reduced in brain and body to the weakness of ex- 
treme youth, thus bringing them a second time to 
childhood. 

Such was the condition of the public mind on a 
day in early June when Noel Talbot found himself 


The Sign of Triumph 


47 


nearing the little town which had grown up about 
the tomb of the martyr and patron saint of France. 
He had been for several weeks in Paris, and it was 
curiosity alone which turned his steps toward St. 
Denys, a desire to see the vast concourse of children 
of whom there was such talk, and to hear this won- 
derful child prophet, who was said to be everything 
from a god to an idle impostor. 

After the storm of the night before the early 
summer sun had risen in warm radiance, and all 
the air was heavy with the fragrance of field and 
garden. From every tree, hedge, and vine the birds 
piped joyously, while they sought and found the 
sunniest spots, in which to fluff their damp feathers 
in the invigorating warmth. Underfoot the road- 
way was shoe-deep in mud, for it had poured in 
torrents during the hours o-f darkness, yet this did 
not deter the crowd, which since early morning had 
been straggling along the road from Paris. There 
were lame, and halt, and blind, women with sick 
babies, and children, who were scarcely more than 
babies, alone. 

These had been obliged to> take refuge in Paris, 
the town of St. Denys having overflowed full soon, 
and they were now tramping the five muddy miles 
which lay between, to join those who since early 
morning had been gathering before the west facade 


48 


The Sign of Triumph 


of the church. Here there was pushing and strug- 
gling, each one striving to get as near the steps 
as possible, the point of desire being a rude pulpit 
erected almost directly in front of the centre of the 
three great Romanesque doors which give on that 
side of the building. 

The throng about the church was largely com- 
posed of children, but there were many women as 
well, women bearing in their arms sick and mis- 
shaped little ones, whose fretting cries of pain 
sounded fitfully over the buzz of low-toned con- 
versation which ascended from the waiting crowd; 
cripples begging the people for the love of the 
Blessed Babe to give back and let them come near 
the Prophet, that he might heal them with a look, 
and let them go free and whole for evermore. 

Not all of that multitude, however, were moved 
by faith or hope of favour; there were scoffers 
and curiosity-mongers, and even thieves and cut- 
purses. 

Suddenly the hum of voices, which had pervaded 
the air for an hour past, began to swell louder and 
louder, and to increase to a high-pitched roar, in 
which the voices of women and children predom- 
inated. It broke at last into a mighty cry of acclaim, 
as a slip of a lad, scarcely twelve years of age, made 
his way from one of the great open doors of the 


The Sign of Triumph 


49 


church toward the rude box pulpit, and, entering it, 
faced the upturned sea of heads below him. He no 
longer wore a sheepskin smock; instead, his slim 
figure was clad in the gray robe of a palmer, having 
a scant hood at the back, which was pushed away 
from the shock of rough brown hair. On his left 
shoulder a red cross burned like a touch of fire. 
He carried in his hand a rude cross, made of two 
reeds bound together by a green withe. 

As Noel gazed curiously upon the young figure, 
a sense of familiarity tugged at his consciousness. 
Where had he seen those great burning introspective 
eyes, that slight pinched face, whose cheeks showed 
deeper hollows than when he had last looked on 
them ? The memory eluded him ; he seemed about 
to grasp it, but, before he could fit a word to it, 
it was gone, only to return with mocking persistence. 

Then he caught and held it — Chartres — the 
Black Crosses. 

“ By all the saints, ’tis the little runaway hind,” 
he muttered under his breath, amazed at the dis- 
covery. 

Before he had fairly recovered from his surprise, 
over that vast throng of people a stillness fell, a 
stillness as of death, followed after a minute — 
during which the dark eyes of the young Prophet, 
gazing over the people, seemed to look upon a glory 


50 


The Sign of Triumph 

unspeakable — by a high-pitched childish voice, hav- 
ing a certain timbre that gave it a marvellous carry- 
ing quality. 

He began to speak, quietly at first; to tell, as he 
had told over and over for weeks past, how, as he 
watched his sheep on the hillside on a day in late 
spring, there had appeared suddenly before him, out- 
lined against a flaming sunset sky, a man wrapped 
about as in a gray mist, with hooded face bent for- 
ward so that he could not distinguish the features, 
though he seemed to feel a pair of wonderful eyes 
burning beneath the shadow of the head-covering. 
This man was shod with sandals, and on the bare 
surface of his feet there were blood-marks. A long 
minute had the figure stayed so, moveless, command- 
ing, then it had spoken, and it was as if the country- 
side was filled with the sound of soft reed pipes. 
At this, Stephen had fallen on his face for fear of 
looking on such things, but the voice had commanded 
him to lift himself up. “ Arise, Stephen of Cloyes,” 
it said, “ leave thy flock and cast aside thy crook. 
Take thou my cross within thy hand, and gird thee 
up and go upon the highways and call my chosen 
ones to deliver my sepulchre from the hands of 
infidels. Only to the pure is it given to do this 
thing, therefore go call the children. ‘ Out of the 
mouths of babes and sucklings have I ordained 


5i 


The Sign of Triumph 

strength, that I might still the enemy and the 
avenger.’ Take this cross,” and here he had paused 
to pluck the two reeds from the field and bind them 
together with a green withe, “ take this and bear 
it before thee. It shall be, for those who follow, a 
sign of triumph. Gather the children together from 
all lands and march to the sea, and it shall be that 
when the water shall see this emblem of my suffer- 
ing it shall fall back obedient to thy will, and dry- 
shod shalt thou pass over. Carry it then to the 
gates of the Holy City, and they will fall before it, 
and, at sight of it, infidels will become Christian, 
and my tomb will at last be free of defilement. Go, 
I command, and lest any impious person doubt, take 
this parchment and deliver it to the king, who will 
then know that thou art sent of God.” 

After this the lad went on to' tell how he had 
lifted his head from the earth to see the figure 
standing in the midst of a blinding and glorified 
light, which receded slowly as he watched it, and 
disappeared as suddenly as it had come, leaving no 
trace of its coming or going. He told them of his 
return home, of how he had recounted the story to 
his father and mother, and been received with de^ 
rision and beating, and sent again to his work. 
Then he told of the coming of the priest, and of 
how he had laid the parchment before him, and he 


52 


The Sign of Triumph 


had read it to the incredulous parents and verified 
the story. After this his parents had fallen on their 
knees before him and begged his forgiveness, as in- 
deed even his sheep had done once when they strayed 
too far, and he had sought them in anger. All this 
he told in simple, vivid language, which fell on the 
ears of his unlearned hearers with far more force 
than any convincing logic. From this personal ex- 
perience he passed on to speak of the Christian pris- 
oners who then suffered bondage. He pictured them 
beleaguered, starving, stretching forth emaciated 
hands to their brothers in other lands to come and 
free them. He drew heart-stirring pictures of their 
sorrows, and, as he spoke, there rose before the 
vision of one man in the throng another scene and 
another place, and he could almost feel the pressure 
of two muddy feet against his doublet, and the 
weight of a slight body on his shoulder. 

After he had exhausted his limited rhetoric in 
presenting these scenes of suffering, he next con- 
trasted the tomb of St. Denys with that of the 
Saviour. “ See this sacred spot,” he pointed dramat- 
ically to the building behind him, “ day after day 
it is thronged with worshippers, devout pilgrims 
from all the land. This is guarded by believers and 
surrounded by holy devotion; think, then, upon the 
Sepulchre of the Lord Christ, where not one faithful 


The Sign of Triumph 


53 


one keeps guard, not one 1 worshipper kneels; it lies 
dishonoured, insulted, in the hands of infidels. 
Knights and warriors have gone forth again and 
again to deliver it, and have failed, vanquished By 
their own evil living. God can wait no longer.” 
His voice, which was raised to its full power, rang 
now like a clarion call, thrilling by its purity and 
sweetness. “ Open your blind eyes,” he commanded, 
“ see the miracle which the Lord will perform, see 
the weak and despised confound the strong and 
powerful; see little children armed only in their 
purity and the will of God go< forth to conquer where 
horses and chariots and mailed warriors have been 
laid low. Dieu le volt, Dieu le volt ” He sounded 
the war-cry of the Crusade with head upraised, and 
eyes fixed on the slim reed cross which he held aloft 
before the people, an ecstasy akin to madness on his 
face, and the multitude caught it up, voicing it back 
as with one throat, “ Dieu le volt, Dieu le volt ” 
Some time before Stephen had finished his im- 
passioned peroration, Noel, whose heart burned 
within him for pity of it all, had turned about, 
intending to leave the place. He discovered in 
so doing that, whereas, when curiosity had halted 
his steps, he had taken his stand on the fringing 
outskirts of the crowd, now the constantly aug- 
menting throng stretched far behind him, barring 


54 The Sign of Triumph 

his way. In spite of this he was beginning to elbow 
himself through the densely packed mass, when his 
eye caught sight of the face of a woman at some 
distance from him. She was mounted on a horse, 
and had evidently paused, as he had done, on the 
outskirts of the crowd, and become hemmed in as 
it gathered behind her. The animal upon which 
she was seated showed unmistakable signs of rest- 
lessness as the people, forgetful of common caution, 
pressed upon it from every direction. A little 
anxious look was beginning to show itself about her 
resolute eyes, and her glance, roving over the sea 
of heads, seemed to be searching for something or 
some one. For the space of ten seconds they rested 
upon Noel, and seemed to gaze deep into' his own. 
In truth, she did not distinguish his face from any 
other of the mass, though it seemed to the man, 
thrilling under her glance, as if she had called him. 
He felt something stir within him, faint and mar- 
vellous, as life stirs in an unborn child. Almost 
without volition on his part he began to make his 
way toward her, struggling ruthlessly against the 
closely packed mass. At first his progress was 
slight, but little by little, so. determined was his 
effort, the crowd began to give before him, letting 
him go slowly toward his goal. At every step he 
kept his fascinated gaze riveted upon the object 


55 


The Sign of Triumph 

toward which he was striving. He noted every de- 
tail of her dress and face, and seemed to be stamping 
them deep upon his memory. She was not a child, 
but a woman, twenty-six or seven, possibly even 
more, though the delicacy of tint and outline spoke 
extreme youth; but a look of poise, a resoluteness 
of bearing, contradicted this. Her eyes were some- 
what too' light in colour for perfect beauty, but the 
exquisite forehead, against which the soft, rebellious, 
curling brown hair grew most beautifully, escaping 
the restraint of her sapphire blue hood and lying 
like sunny tendrils, on her temples, and the perfect 
modelling of every feature, compensated for this 
slight defect. Noel could see, where the full folds 
of her blue cloak fell away, that her cote-hardie was 
of white, richly embroidered about the neck, and 
was held in with a girdle set with jewels. Her 
gloves also were richly wrought on the back. By 
these tokens, and by the rich housings of her palfrey, 
he knew that she must be a person of importance. 

He had almost reached the desired point toward 
which he had been struggling, when Stephen finished 
speaking. After the boy had sounded his war-cry, 
and that answering shout had gone up to heaven 
on a mighty wave of sound, a tense silence seemed 
to fall for an instant over the multitude, during 
which Stephen held aloft his cross before their 


56 


The Sign of Triumph 


adoring gaze. Here and there a hysterical sob from 
some overwrought woman or child was all that broke 
the stillness ; then, as one who wakes from a dream, 
the boy seemed to come to himself, look wonderingly 
over the people as if he knew not why he, or they, 
were there, and, turning slowly, almost apologeti- 
cally, took his way from the pulpit toward the door 
of the church. This was the signal for the crowd, 
who surged forward with that tremendous and irre- 
sistible force, that senseless and ungovernable 
brutality, which only a great number of people can 
display. They pushed and fought, trampled the 
weak and fallen, unmindful of everything but the 
desire to get near the Prophet, to touch the hem of 
his robe, or maybe be touched by him. 

Naturally this sudden excitement did not tend to 
quiet the already restive horse, who began to paw 
and snort warningly as the heedless press closed in 
more and more about him. Then, half-maddened 
by fear, he reared, bringing his fore feet down with 
an ominous threat for any save for those half- 
maddened fanatics. The woman, now thoroughly 
frightened, not so much for herself as for the sense- 
less throng about her, tried to quiet the animal, 
speaking to him soothingly and patting his neck 
with reassuring hand, but to no> purpose. It was 
then that she sent a look of wild appeal about her, 


The Sign of Triumph 


57 


and became aware that some one beside herself saw 
the danger and was striving to avert it. Noel had 
been obliged to make an almost superhuman effort 
to keep from being borne along with the crush, and 
I doubt if he had succeeded in reaching the side of 
the woman had he not been so near when the rush 
began. As it was, he was not only near enough to 
catch the look of pleading and distress in her glance, 
but to answer it at once by a firm hand on the bridle 
of the maddened animal, bringing it back to its fore 
feet again as it was about to rear a second time. 
He began to soothe and stroke it, trying by every 
art to allay the creature’s terror, and when his efforts 
had almost brought success, there came a second 
burst of shouting from the forward part of the 
throng, which awakened again the easily stirred 
fears of the horse. Once more it tried to rear, almost 
dragging Noel from his feet in his effort to prevent 
it. At this instant the horror-stricken gaze of the 
man fell on a child, scarcely more than a toddling 
baby, almost under the animal’s downcoming feet. 

How he reached it and snatched it from its peril- 
ous position he never knew. His action was so in- 
voluntary that he knew nothing until he found him- 
self awkwardly grasping the child with his left arm, 
while with his right he still attempted to' control 
the horse. Seeing his inability to do this while so 


58 


The Sign of Triumph 


burdened, he turned toward the woman, whose arms 
were already outstretched. 

There are times in the life of every one, often in 
a moment of great excitement, when something seen, 
something done, photographs itself instantaneously 
upon the brain, and, strange to> say, these sharp, 
quickly made impressions often prove the most vivid 
and lasting, returning to us again and again as if 
actually visible. This was such a moment in Noel’s 
life, for in the brief instant necessary for that little 
act, the look of tenderness in the woman’s pale face 
as she caught and held the child against her breast, 
the loosened blown cloak of blue showing the white 
beneath, stamped themselves indelibly upon his 
memory, mingling ever after in his thoughts with 
an altar-piece which he once had seen in a church 
in Provence, a picture of the Mother and Child in 
their flight into Egypt. 

Five minutes later he was able to lead the thor- 
oughly quieted horse from the square, for the people 
had begun to disperse, the Prophet having gone. 
Once out of the press, he paused, uncertain what 
move to make with regard to the restoration of the 
child. This question was promptly settled by the 
appearance of a woman walking as one distraught, 
her clothes torn, her person stained with mud, her 
tears flowing as from a full fountain, smearing the 


The Sign of Triumph 


59 


dirt upon her face. As she neared them, the child, 
recognizing its own, set up a lusty wail. With 
answering swiftness the woman darted like a swallow 
upon it, snatching it with small ceremony from the 
arms of its rescuer. She was the poorest of the 
poor, a villain's wife, by her dress, and the other 
unmistakably a lady of rank, yet neither the one 
nor the other heeded the rudeness of her act, for 
high and low met on a common ground. 

The great lady looked with comprehending sym- 
pathy at her lowly sister, clutching her recovered 
treasure against her breast, and talking to it in the 
unintelligible language which only mothers under- 
stand. But there was something besides sympathy 
in the eyes which watched this scene, and when she 
spoke, as she did a moment later, her tone had not 
a little severity mingled with its kindliness. 

“ Goodwife, I fear thou art not fit to have such 
treasure since thou dost so ill care for it. Had it 
not been for this stranger's care, thy child had been 
pounded to death neath my palfrey's hoofs.” 

“ Ah, your worships, believe me, 'twas no fault 
of mine, I fetched the babe many weary miles this 
day that the look of the Prophet might rest on 
him and charm the evil eye away from him, for 
he hath sickened of late and been unlike himself, 
and I fear that some charm hath been worked upon 


6o 


The Sign of Triumph 


him by mine enemies, or those who envy my fortune 
in having a man child. I held him in my arms wait- 
ing, and when the lad was done his preaching I 
strove to get anear him, but the press was so mighty 
that my babe was torn from my arms, and I was 
borne along amongst the people, like chaff before the 
fans. I fought and plead to go back, but they turned 
deaf ears to my cries. See my cote, my lady, ’tis 
of stout new linsey of mine own weaving, and ’tis 
rent from me like a rotten cloth,” the woman said, 
holding up a fold of her scant garment to substan- 
tiate her statement. 

“ Take this, then, to buy thee a new cote, and see 
to it that thou bring thy little one no more into such 
danger,” and the lady’s hand found its way to the 
purse at her belt with a readiness which spoke vol- 
umes. 

At sight of such good fortune the woman broke 
into voluble thanks, calling down every blessing of 
Heaven on their worships, and wishing long life 
and many children to them in return for their good- 
ness. It was some time before she could be made 
to bring her thanks to an end, and before she had 
departed the face of the woman on the horse was 
as red as a crimson flower. 

Nevertheless she did not lose her dignified self- 
possession. She was helped in this by the fact that 


The Sign of Triumph 


6l 


the man seemed to have been entirely deaf to the 
implication. A second time her hand was wandering 
toward her purse when Noel, whose eyes had been 
considerately fixed upon the figure of the retreating 
peasant, turned quickly and faced her. Looking him 
fairly in the face, as she did for the first time, her 
hand dropped nervelessly to her side. No, despite 
his garb, which was poor and worn, he was no 
servant, something in the fine lines of his face and 
the lift of his head even bade her rate him as gen- 
tleman. Here she must offer thanks, not gold, she 
felt it instinctively. 

“ Sir,” she said, with gentle courtesy, “ I owe you 
much for this day’s service. I would I could repay 
you in some sort.” 

“ That you have already done and more, my lady, 
by your gracious words,” he answered quickly. 

His eyes seemed to say so much more than this, 
that she answered them rather than his speech. “ In 
what land, sir, learned you such pretty compliment ? 
Your tongue seems not to render our language as if 
born to it.” She was moved by a sudden impulse 
of curiosity which she did not herself understand. 

“ I am an Englishman,” he answered, briefly, 
keeping his eyes fixed on her face with discon- 
certing intentness. Before she could make any an- 
swer, had she intended to do so, a man wearing 


62 


The Sign of Triumph 


a livery which matched the housings of her horse 
approached with guilty look and hasty step. She 
turned aside to meet him and rate him soundly for 
his absence. 

“ Guillemen, thou careless varlet, where hast thou 
been while I had need of thee? Had it not been 
for the goodness of this stranger, I had not been 
able to lie down to-night without the blood of the 
innocent on my soul, and all, forsooth, because thy 
gawking curiosity led thee from thy duties. I’ll 
have Master Pasquier speak to thee with the point 
of a rod for this folly, for, by my soul, ’tis the only 
speech which thou hast the wit or will to under- 
stand.” 

“ Nay, mistress, nay, my lady, pardon once again 
and let not Master Pasquier get anear me with his 
tickler. As the Virgin looks upon me, ’twas no 
fault of mine, for the throng swept me from my feet 
and bore me like a feather on a breeze. Believe me, 
my lady; it was so.” 

“ Guillemen, if thou wert as featly at thy duties 
as thou art with thy lying, there would not be such 
another varlet in the whole kingdom. Thou hadst 
wandered, long before the mad rush of the people 
held thee helpless. I have forgiven thee once too 
often a’ready, since such things can be, and this time 
thou shalt taste the rod and learn to dread its 


The Sign of Triumph 


63 


flavour.” Turning then from the crestfallen servant, 
her face changed from sternness to' gratitude. “ To 
you, sir, I will once more say thanks — and adieu.” 

Noel caught impulsively at her horse’s bridle as 
she began to move away. 

“ Stay yet a moment, I beg. May I not know 
thy name? ” His words were humble, but his tone 
was unconsciously commanding. 

A quick, imperious frown ruffled her white brow, 
and a haughty answer hovered on her tongue, but 
she checked it. Her voice was cold, nevertheless, 
when she replied : 

“ It needs not that you should know, since we shall 
not meet again.” 

At another time the rebuke of her manner would 
have been enough to arouse Noel’s easily armed 
pride. Now he seemed scarcely to note her change 
of front in his eagerness to obtain the information 
which he so desired. He still gripped the bridle of 
her horse, stirring its silver bells to tinkling harmony. 
Looking her fairly in the face with a compelling 
gaze which gave her a restive feeling, though she 
met it defiantly, he said : 

“ Thou hast not spoken truth. We shall meet 
again, ere long. Never doubt it.” Then, stepping 
aside, he swept the plume of his cap almost to the 


64 The Sign of Triumph 

mud in the profound obeisance with which he un- 
covered. 

And she, riding away, without a word or back- 
ward glance, remembered his prophecy and the look 
which had accompanied it; remembered it in spite 
of herself — uneasily. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Nearly six weeks later Noel found himself tramp- 
ing along the road leading toward Vendome and 
Blois. He had it in mind to make a short stop 
at each of these towns, and then, if need be, press 
on to La Manche, there to take service under the 
feudal lord, who had at that time much need of bold 
and trusty men to uphold him in a fierce quarrel 
which he waged against his neighbour of Angoumois 
on a question of territory. 

A feeling akin to desperation was pushing Noel 
to this, for of late years he was coming less and 
less to like such service, or to brook command from 
others. He chafed irritably at the thought of vol- 
untarily thrusting his neck under the yoke, yet what 
other course lay open to him, since Fortune had 
turned a darkly frowning, or, at best, blank face 
toward him? Do what he would, she refused to 
relent. He had wandered from town to town, had 
tried every trick known to' the superstition of an 
inveterate gambler in hopes of turning his luck; 

6 5 


66 


The Sign of Triumph 


but to no purpose. One by one the few things of 
value which he had possessed had passed from him, 
and the richer parts of his clothing had been re- 
placed by meaner things. These, together with the 
soiled and wayworn appearance of the man, the 
gaunt look in his face which spoke eloquently of 
short commons, had done all that was possible to 
reduce him to the level of an ordinary vagrant — 
and failed. He still bore himself with dauntless 
courage and a certain high-headed dignity that spoke 
his origin no mean one. As he came slowly over 
the hill on a sultry July morning he was leading 
a sorry jaded brute, who walked painfully, and had 
a scarcely seamed wound on its right side. Indeed, 
so lame was the beast, he greatly retarded the man, 
who caught himself wondering whimsically for the 
hundredth time, why he still burdened himself with 
so sorry a steed. To say truth, in the beginning, 
at least, the election had been that of the horse 
rather than the man. Later, Noel had acquiesced, 
and was now loath to part with the only object which 
this barren period had brought him. 

He had found the beast one day left to die where 
it had fallen, in a little glade not far from the road- 
side. A pitiful whinny, ending almost as a human 
cry, had caught his ear in passing, and turned his 
steps aside. The scene which greeted him told its 


The Sign of Triumph 


67 


own story, one not uncommon in those days of 
constant warfare and private quarrel. A young 
knight with a broken lance beside him lay dead, 
stripped of his armour. All about the torn turf 
and trampled earth spoke eloquently of the struggle 
which had preceded death. It was evident that the 
affray had taken place two' or three days before, for 
a sickening stench was already rising from the dead 
body, and swarms of carrion flies, hovering in the 
hot sun, covered the corpse. A horse with a gaping 
wound in its side had dragged itself as far as pos- 
sible, and cropped all of the untrampled herbage 
which it could reach. It had lost much blood, and 
this, with the lack of water, had reduced it almost 
to the point of death. Noel’s first impulse was to 
finish the matter for the poor brute by a humane 
thrust of his weapon, but it whinnied so hopefully 
at sight of him, and fixed on him a pair of eyes 
so full of human pleading, that he lacked the heart 
to carry out his purpose. Instead he began an exam- 
ination which revealed the fact that, ghastly as the 
wound appeared at first sight, it was not the most 
serious of the brute’s troubles, for in some fashion 
it had succeeded in dislocating its right shoulder, 
and it was this which held it a starving prisoner. 
Noel considered the question gravely. Possibly he 
might be able to reset the dislocation, and with a 


68 The Sign of Triumph 

little care the beast might in time serve to bear him 
on his journey ings. This, or the appeal in its eyes, 
decided him, and he set out at once to find water 
and relieve its first and most pressing need. When 
he turned from the little glade on this kindly quest, 
the horse, thinking itself abandoned, followed him 
with whinny after whinny, so full of pain and plead- 
ing, as almost to have the force of speech. It shook 
the man with a great pity, as did the sound of joy 
which welcomed his return, the scream of desire 
which the poor brute vented, struggling and pawing 
in helpless endeavour to drag itself toward him when 
it saw the dripping cap in his hands. This did not 
hush until the grateful dark muzzle dipped deep 
into the life-giving draught and sucked it up at 
a gulp. Back and forth the man patiently journeyed, 
until at last the horse was satisfied; after this he 
cut long grass from the margin of the little brook 
which he had discovered amongst the trees, and 
brought it also for his strange patient. When it had 
eaten its fill, with firm, gentle hand, Noel pressed 
and pulled, bracing himself as best he could for 
the task, until at length he was rewarded by feeling 
the shoulder slip back again into its socket. Then, 
having drawn the lips of the wound together, he 
poured in a little wine from his flask, and bound 
it up as well as he could with a scarf taken from the 


The Sign of Triumph 


69 


dead man’s body. After this he covered the staring 
eyes and befouled face of the dead with a bit of cloth 
torn from his own ragged chape de pluie, and, scrap- 
ing leaves and turf over the body, shut it away from 
the light of the sun, that in quiet and darkness it 
might return to the earth from whence it sprung. 

That night Noel slept under a tree hard by, and 
awoke in the morning when the sun was high to 
find that the horse had so far recovered — for nature 
acts more quickly with the lower animals than with 
man — that it had struggled to its feet and nosed 
its stumbling way to the brook, where it was sur- 
feiting itself on food and water. 

Noel drowsed under the trees through all that 
day, a snared rabbit giving a welcome addition to 
the scanty food in his pouch, and another day and 
two more nights he slept in the open and waited. 
The morning after he found his steed so far im- 
proved that it was possible for it to hobble beside 
him as he took the road. This, then, was the 
origin of the strange companionship which had 
lasted ever since; though, a few days after its be- 
ginning, Noel, seeing that the dislocated shoulder 
was like to prove a more serious matter than he at 
first thought, decided to end it. The horse was 
now able to hobble along and find food and water, 
so he felt no compunction in leaving it. On the 


70 


The Sign of Triumph 

third evening of their slow journeying, he loosed 
the bridle from his arm and started forward in his 
natural swinging stride, which took him rapidly 
from the view of his late companion. At first the 
beast seemed uncertain as to how this new move 
should be interpreted, but, finally deciding that its 
master would return shortly, it utilized the time 
by cropping the tempting tussocks which grew near- 
est. After a little it became uneasy, paused, lifted 
its head, and, when there was no sound of returning 
feet, sent out jvhinny after whinny like a call. Again 
it waited, but the woods were silent save for an 
occasional bird-note, or the rustle of the grass as 
a hare scuttled over the ground and sought refuge 
in its burrow. 

Noel, who had heard the whinny of question and 
uneasiness, felt a faint sense of guilt, as if he were 
deserting a comrade in distress, but he went on, 
after a slight pause in which he assured himself 
once more that there was no danger for the beast, 
now that it was no longer helpless. After a time 
there came to his ear the sound of footsteps on the 
road, and, alert as one must be who travelled alone 
in those days, he paused to decide how many the 
company contained. But his practised ear told him 
in an instant that this was no cavalcade to be feared, 
but a single horse, and one whose shuffling, stum- 


The Sign of Triumph 


71 


bling attempt at a trot had grown familiar in these 
past three days. He waited, then, until the animal 
reached him, which it did shortly, slipping a cold 
muzzle into his hand with a caress which said as 
plainly as words, “ Master, did you mean to leave 
me?” 

Noel made one more attempt after this, which 
resulted as the first one, except that in this case 
the horse, remembering its first experience, became 
suspicious more quickly and followed sooner. After 
this he gave it up, accepted the companionship and 
the love which so evidently accompanied it, brought 
his swinging gait down to suit the painful hobble of 
the horse, and gave his new friend a name, the name 
of a dead comrade who had fallen fighting for him 
and with him — Nicol. 

The ill-fortune which had clung so persistently to 
him for weeks dated in Noel's mind from that hour 
in which he had gazed into the face of the woman 
who had so fascinated him at St. Denys, and uttered 
his prophecy or threat — he scarcely knew which 
it was — that they should meet again. For days 
after this her face had risen before him, her memory 
tormented him with its elusive loveliness. Twice 
had he flung down the dice-cups and risen from the 
table with an oath, because her eyes smiled and 
frowned and changed before him, until he could 


72 


The Sign of Triumph 


not think, and felt himself bewitched. He resented 
it the more bitterly because the experience was so 
new. He had looked into other eyes as blue, other 
faces — no, not as fair, he could not bring himself 
to believe that any other could be so fair, but they 
had been beautiful, and yet he had known no trouble 
in forgetting. 

He had not let her fade from before his actual 
vision without one effort to discover that which she 
had withheld from him — her name. When she had 
ridden away that day at St. Denys, he looked after 
her until she had gone some little distance, before 
he roused himself sufficiently to follow; then he 
was at the disadvantage of being on foot. He had 
managed to keep her in sight, however, and had 
seen that she was joined after a little by a half- 
dozen liveried varlets besides the one with her whom 
she had so severely rated. He saw this one mount 
a led horse which was waiting for him, and then 
the little cavalcade had wheeled and taken the muddy 
road toward Paris. Noel watched them until they 
faded like specks upon the horizon, then turned to an 
inn near by, where the men had waited their mistress. 
But if the landlord of “ The Boar ” knew to what 
service his late customers belonged, he had no mind 
to yield the information to a stranger whose various 


The Sign of Triumph 73 

style of dress bespoke him of no high degree in the 
world. 

Failing to elicit the desired information here, hav- 
ing refreshed himself and paid his score, Noel set 
out also for Paris. 

There for many days he lingered, drinking and 
dicing in the inns and wineshops at night, walking 
the streets by day, and peering into the face of every 
woman whom he saw, following every cavalcade of 
horsemen where a glint of blue in the livery held 
out the smallest hope to him ; but all to no purpose. 
Had the muddy roadway opened and swallowed the 
object of his quest, she could not have more com- 
pletely disappeared, so> far as he was concerned. Yet 
her memory haunted him, tormenting him with a 
desire to see her again. He played recklessly. Luck 
forsook him, the dice-cup was no longer his friend, 
and he felt his free, roving life slipping daily from 
his grasp. He began to wander from town to town, 
hoping that change of place would bring change of 
fortune. Slowly he parted with his few valuables, 
and still the fickle dame frowned, or, at best, smiled 
so faintly that her scant bounty was soon ex- 
hausted. Little by little the distinctness of that 
lovely face faded from his memory, for hunger has 
a strong grip to twist away such recollection, yet 
he still thought of her, and sought her in all the 


74 


The Sign of Triumph 


faces which passed him, and felt, when he was 
obliged to turn toward La Manche, that he was 
renouncing all hope of meeting her again. 

Such was the state of his mind and fortunes on 
this morning in late July. He had slept the night 
before in the forest, and so> at break of day was on 
the road. He knew that he must be nearing Ven- 
dome, he had even thought to press on the evening 
before instead of spending the night in the open. 
It was his purpose to rest there and give one more 
trial to the goddess of fortune before going on 
to the servitude against which his spirit rebelled. 

When at last Noel reached the summit of a low 
hill and beheld the little walled town below him, 
a strange and unexpected sight greeted his eyes. 
All about the city for half a mile or more the green 
herbage was trampled and torn as by the encamp- 
ment of an army, and, amidst the rising clouds 
of dust which the early morning sun turned to 
gold, he could see gay tents dotted everywhere. 
Some of these were being struck by busy workers, 
and in and out, and up and down between the narrow 
streets of this fragile city, myriads of figures passed, 
figures so small that they must be dwarfs or children. 
It looked like an ant-hill in a state of unusual excite- 
ment, for the coming and going of these small beings 


The Sign of Triumph 75 

appeared quite as aimlessly distracted as those of 
the insects. 

For a brief instant, Noel did not know how to 
interpret the sight. His first thought was that it 
must be the occasion o*f some great fete in the town, 
then like a flash it came to him : Vendome was the 
place of rendezvous for this mad Crusade of the 
children, of which he had heard at every roadside 
tavern, and in every town that he had lately fre- 
quented. Filled with wonder and curiosity, he has- 
tened his steps and soon reached the gate, from 
which a procession had already begun to issue. At 
its head rolled a gilded chariot, hung with rich 
textiles and drawn by horses whose embroidered 
housings were of the finest. Within sat a sombre- 
eyed peasant boy, riding in state for the first time 
in his brief existence, and holding in his slim brown 
hand a cross of reeds, bound together by a green 
withe. Beside him rode an escort of twenty or more 
lads, whose dress and accoutrements bespoke them 
the children of nobles. These vied with each other 
for a place near the car, and bore themselves before 
its occupant with a humility which was strangely 
at variance with their respective positions. After 
these came bands of little pilgrims, most of them 
dressed in the gray robes of the palmer, with a red 
cross on the shoulder, and all of them bearing either 


76 


The Sign of Triumph 


rude crosses, or fluttering pennons of red mounted 
on the point of a lance, copies in miniature of the 
oriflamme of France. Here and there amongst the 
crowd were the bent figures and childish faces of 
a few aged pilgrims, who, moved by the pious ex- 
amples of the little ones, with a faith no less perfect 
in its childlike absoluteness, had set forth with them 
on this holy quest. 

Distracted parents still followed their children, 
clinging to them, pleading with them, holding out 
loving arms of shelter, and grasping only empty air. 
" Dieu le volt , Dieu le volt ” the cruel answer smote 
afresh on their ears, making many rise up to curse 
a God who could so will to rob them. There were 
some who held a loving grip on a father’s or a 
mother’s neck, and clung, sobbing convulsively, 
loath to leave the love of parents, yet still more 
loath to be left, but these were few. In tens, in 
hundreds, and thousands, the children came, and 
thousands remained to come: boys, girls, sturdy 
ones, feeble ones, peasant, lord, and artisan’s child, 
scarcely any of them more than twelve years old, 
and many not more than six. It was a heart-rend- 
ing sight to any who had not gone faith-mad, for 
not only had they to brave the hardness of the way, 
and death from fatigue, starvation, and thirst, but 
there was a worse threat of moral contagion, for 


The Sign of Triumph 


77 


mingled among the children were many whose faces 
bore the mark of vice so deeply stamped, that only 
the innocence of babyhood could have been deceived 
by the pious looks which they strove to assume, as 
they had assumed the gray robe and the burning 
cross. These were loudest in their chanting when 
a hymn, breaking forth, was caught up joyously by 
happy little voices, loudest in their shouting when 
the war-cry was raised, beginning at the head of the 
column and sweeping over the host like a mighty 
wind, gathering volume as it rolled, until it seemed 
as if it could never pause until it broke against the 
very gates of high heaven itself. 

“ Lord Jesus, give us back thy Holy Sepulchre, 
Lord Jesus, give us back thy Holy Sepulchre.” 

The head of the column lost itself down the dusty 
roadway leading toward Blois, the whole line bris- 
tling with crosses, and flashing with the breeze- 
caught oriflammes, which the brilliant morning sun 
and the distance turned into living tongues of flame, 
and still they came, each band pressing eagerly on the 
heels of the one before, belated stragglers hurrying 
to join their comrades, now a merryman with a bear 
led in chains, or a juggler loath to quit a company 
so easy to amuse, so free with their small posses- 
sions, lame, halt, and blind, hoping for relief from 
bodily ills, beggars finding their trade light in such 


7 8 


The Sign of Triumph 


gentle company, thieves, rogues, tatterdemalions, and 
children, children, endless numbers of children. 

While Noel stood watching this strangest sight 
of the world, the setting forth of thirty thousand 
children to conquer where armed warriors had 
. failed, he saw coming toward him, from under the 
arched gateway, the tall, undeveloped figure of a 
girl of about seventeen, clad in the gray robe of a 
pilgrim, wearing the cross on her shoulder. Her 
face was alight with pious enthusiasm, and she was 
shouting lustily. It was not until she almost brushed 
him in passing that he was able to fit a name to 
the face which seemed so familiar. 

“ Flamel ! ” He gripped her by the shoulder and 
turned her toward him. 

She faced about with a start of surprise. “ Sieur 
Noel,” she exclaimed, recognizing him ; then, 
“ What dost thou here? Hast thou taken the cross 
also? ” 

“ Tis meeter to ask what thou dost here, and 
with this upon thy shoulder ; ” he touched the cross 
with an accusing forefinger. “ Why art thou no 
longer at Maitre Yves’s inn at Chartres?” he de- 
manded. 

The blood burned an instant in Flamel’s cheek. 
She lowered her voice. “ The mistress turned me 
forth after — after thou wert there. Many times 


The Sign of Triumph 


79 


did she threaten it, but I believed her not.” Then, 
with a flippant toss of her head, her little shame 
quickly forgotten, “ But I care not. The roads 
are not bad, and there be plenty of good company 
for a likely wench. At worst ’tis not so hard as serv- 
ing one who would give thee no joy of life, and ex- 
pect thee, after having worked the livelong day, to 
creep to thy solitary bed o' nights.” 

By this time the band to which she had attached 
herself had passed on, and the girl made a restive 
motion as if to leave Noel and hurry after them. 
She put her hand on his arm, and, with a look 
which held much of invitation, said, in a coaxing 
tone : “ Art thou not going this .way also? ” 

Noel obeyed the touch of her hand, and moved 
off slowly at her side. “ I travel this way, but not 
to-day. I shall lie the night at Vendome, or maybe 
longer.” 

“ Not if thou art wise, Sieur Noel. Vendome 
is no place for men of thy kidney. It hath held 
within its borders this three weeks past this gath- 
ering horde of innocents, and the city hath been so 
moved to piety by the sight, 1 dare be sworn thou 
couldst not find within its gates a doughty fellow 
who would dare rattle the dice against thee.” 

“ Perchance thou art not far wrong, for it doth 
have the look to* my eyes that thou hast gathered 


8o 


The Sign of Triumph 


all the rogues, and drabs, and callets into this com- 
pany, hence thou must have purged the town.” He 
threw a comprehensive glance over the crowd, and 
Flameh s shrug and grimace did not deny him. 

“ Thou canst not do better than put on the cross 
and join with us,” she advised, unblushingly ; “ for 
a time at least, food is plenty and easy to come 
by, and if thou’lt have diversion — thou’lt find it 
in plenty, I promise, though the company hath so 
godly a look.” 

The man’s face darkened, and a low exclamation 
of disgust broke from him. “Tear that robe from 
off thee, Flamel,” he counselled, harshly. “ Sin if 
thou wilt, but sin in open honesty; never creep be- 
neath a thing like that to hide thy filthiness. ’Tis the 
right of any to serve the devil if he will, but not 
under the livery of God, that makes the befoulment 
blacker.” 

The girl, flushing angrily, faced him brazenly. 
“ In what art thou better than I, Sir Righteous, 
that thou shouldst take it on thyself to make such 
preachment to me ? ” she flashed, spitefully. 

“ In naught, save in making no pretence to be 
other than I am,” returned Noel, sternly, looking 
away from her and flinching in spite of himself as 
he made the admission. 

“ But thou hast shame at thy acts, and I have 


The Sign of Triumph 


81 


not; in that, I hold myself the better, for if my 
head thought shame of what my body did, then 
should my body do differently,” returned the girl, 
shrewdly, a little feeling of triumph possessing her 
as she saw by his half-averted face that her shot 
had told. Then, seeing that her bickering was likely 
to lose him, and not being minded to have it so>, she 
suddenly changed her tactics. 

“ Journey with me a little, at least until we reach 
Blois,” she coaxed. “ Thou dost owe me so much, 
since ’twas thou who wert the cause of my casting 
forth.” 

Noel lifted his head and laughed harshly. “ I 
have many sins to my pack, girl, but this one, at 
least, I refuse to stand burden for. Thou wert the 
cause of thine own undoing, and that after timely 
warning. Carry this, then, on thine own shoulders.” 
But in spite of his words, which seemed to preface 
a refusal, the suggestive pressure with which she 
clung to his arm, and her sloe-black eyes, alight 
with desire and invitation, had already stirred the 
evil in him. 

“ If it will pleasure thee that I go with thee, let 
it be so, for Blois lies on my way,” he consented, at 
last, with an attempt at churlishness. 

Flamel gave a gay, satisfied little laugh. “ Then 
hurry, hurry thy steps, and let us join the band to 


82 


The Sign of Triumph 


which I belong/’ she answered, joyously, still cling- 
ing to Noel’s arm and pushing forward quickly, 
chattering every moment as she walked. 

“ I see that thou art not like to quite forget me 
even when we part company at Blois, Sieur Noel,” 
pointing to a scar on his forehead which was entirely 
healed, but still showed a double welt of white 
against the deeper colour of his forehead. “ Of a 
truth, I think that thou hast taken the cross despite 
thyself, though Nicholas was the priest who 1 gave 
it, and his knife fastened it upon thee,” she twit- 
tered, triumphantly. 


CHAPTER V. 


Throughout the day those thousands of feet 
kept the road to Blois enveloped in a cloud of dust. 
The sun rose high and burned fiercely, and many a 
child whose bounding steps could hardly be re- 
strained in the morning, began to lag pitifully and 
show signs of exhaustion. These were mostly 
amongst the children of the better sort, for neither 
the hot sun nor the long way were any unusual 
hardship for the children of the poor. This had 
been their daily experience since babyhood, except 
when bitter cold was exchanged for heat with the 
season’s variations. 

In the morning the little Crusaders ran, laughed, 
and skipped, plucked flowers from the fields through 
which they passed, and, binding them into crosses, 
fastened them on their shoulders. They told tales, 
too, the sons of nobles recounting, to the eager, 
listening crowd who gathered about, the deeds of 
glory which sire or grandsire had done in other 
Crusades. The eyes of the children kindled, and 
83 


8 4 


The Sign of Triumph 


their hearts fluttered excitedly at these accounts 
of glorious fighting, yet they never failed, when 
the story was ended, to applaud their own way as 
the better one. 

“ But we shall go without arms, and yet con- 
quer. We have but to surround the walls of Jeru- 
salem and raise our cry, and the battlements will 
fall, and the gates give way before us. Then will 
the infidels be converted, for will they not worship 
a cross that can do> such miracles ? Ah, but ’twill be 
glorious to conquer where our fathers have failed. 
This is God’s way, and He has called the children 
to do it. Did He not say, ‘ A little child shall lead 
them?’ Was it not a prophecy of this?” Thus 
would they talk, in joyous excitement, until some 
child started another tale, or a piping voice lifted 
one of the hymns which they delighted to sing 
as they tramped on to glorious achievement. 

“ Fairest Lord Jesus , 1 
Ruler of all nature, 

Thou of Mary and of God the Son ; 

Thee will I cherish, < 

Thee will I honour, 

Thee my soul’s glory, joy, and crown.” 


x This hymn is said to be one which was actually sung by 
the little German Crusaders, and is the only one which has 
survived the oblivion of ages. 


The Sign of Triumph 


85 


“ Fair are the meadows, 

Fairer still the woodlands, 

Robed in the blooming garb of spring; 
Jesus is fairer, 

Jesus is purer, 

Who makes our saddened heart to sing. 

“ Fair is the sunshine, 

Fairer still the moonlight. 

And the sparkling starry host ; 

Jesus is brighter, 

Jesus is purer, 

Than all the angels heaven can boast.” 


But when the sun’s rays began to lengthen and 
slant obliquely over the earth, and the round shad- 
ows cast by tree and shrub at noonday stretched 
and grew thin, when the glowing flower crosses of 
the morning hung withered and blackened, and so 
far as eye could reach the column of figures down 
the dusty road still moved on and on, until lost 
in a bend of the way, or obscured by trees, then 
the stories ceased, the songs became few, and the 
shouting of the war-cry but a feeble echo of the 
morning. 

The twilight was almost upon them when the 
chariot which headed the procession turned aside 
from the roadway into an open plain which offered 
a good camping-spot for the night. As each band 
of children straggled up to the halting-place, they 
dropped in the first unoccupied spot, too utterly 


86 


The Sign of Triumph 


weary for further exertion. After a time they 
aroused themselves to seek water, and to eat such 
food as their pouches contained, while in and out 
amongst the seated groups beggars passed, not 
needing here their usual whine to arouse sympathy, 
for generous hands thrust food upon them before 
their tongues could ask it. Some of the little ones 
were too far spent for even hunger to move them. 
These sat on the ground nursing their swollen feet 
and sobbing with the heart-broken abandon of child- 
hood. 

“ Dry thine eyes, little Jean, and be glad of thy 
bruised feet; thy Saviour’s feet were bruised and 
pierced also. Think of the time when thou shalt 
stand beside His Holy Sepulchre which thou wilt 
have helped to* deliver,” — such the consolation 
offered by the older and stronger. 

“ Is the way much longer ? Will we come to 
Jerusalem to-morrow?” the pitiful question would 
come between sobs. 

“ Nay,” gravely, “ I think not on the morrow. 
The way is long. Perchance ’twill even be four 
or five days ere we are at our journey’s end.” 

When they had eaten and were a little refreshed, 
their first move was toward the chariot where 
Stephen had already mounted and begun to preach. 
Some dozen or more cressets stuck in the ground 


The Sign of Triumph 


87 


about the car gave a flaring brightness to the scene, 
and the guard of honour, which always surrounded 
the young Prophet, stood ready to beat back the 
children if they attempted to throng him, as they 
generally did after each such occasion. He told 
them again the tale which they never tired of hear- 
ing, and he pictured over and over in glowing 
phrase the triumphs which awaited them. Their 
flagging enthusiasm awoke once more, and when 
he had finished speaking there was the usual rush 
and struggle to touch him, to grasp a shred of his 
garments, or a hair of his head, which having, they 
believed, insured them against pain and sickness 
in this world, and gained for them an entrance into 
heaven hereafter. 

It was some time before Stephen’s guard suc- 
ceeded in dispersing the crowd, and, when they had 
done so, it broke into knots gathering about a merry- 
andrew, a dancing bear, or a juggler, there to laugh 
as noisily and joyously as any little ones of their 
age, for they were but flesh-and-blood children, 
despite the strange quest upon which they went. 

But even the joys of juggler and merryman could 
not render them proof against physical weariness, 
and one by one they crept away to seek rest. The 
night was close and sultry, and the earth seemed 
to radiate the heat which it had soaked up during 


88 


The Sign of Triumph 


the day. Surely the watching moon in all these 
ages has never looked down upon a stranger sight, 
as one by one these doughty Crusaders knelt up- 
right on the earth, uttered a sleepy prayer, and, 
tumbling where they were, slept the sleep of tired 
childhood. As far as the eye could reach, the 
ground, covered with small sleeping figures, bristled 
with crosses and oriflammes, whose tongues of fire 
hung limp and motionless in the still, hot air. 

Noel had been wandering from group to group 
of the children, filled with a savage curiosity and 
resentment for which he was at a loss to account. 
It was one of those times of which I have spoken 
before, when the gall-bags of his nature burst, 
flooding his soul with bitterness. He was not in- 
trospective, and he did not know that this feeling 
had been awakened by the sight of these thousands 
of innocent children, thrown out into the evil and 
temptations of a world whose wickedness they could 
not understand or guard against. All the years 
of hardening through which he had passed had left 
his nature untouched at bottom, and it was a tender 
pity which stirred within him, making him harshly 
arraign and scofl: at a God who could let such things 
be, — nay, worse, who could let them be done in 
His very name. Flamel’s words of the morning 
had roused him, moreover, to a self-contempt which 


The Sign of Triumph 


89 


he had not felt for many a day. He realized that 
he was slipping lower and lower in the scale, and 
that the year past had seen a terrible change in him. 
Before that, though only a mercenary in the pay 
of some lord or baron, he had at least fought well, 
loyally upholding his employer; now he was grow- 
ing lazy, a lover of the flagon and dice-box, his 
sword was idle in its scabbard, and almost imper- 
ceptibly he was slipping into actual vagabondage. 
And was not this last step the lowest which he had 
ever taken, for, with the exception of a few priests 
and the childish old people who followed the Crusa- 
ders, he did not disguise from himself that the other 
grown people in its ranks were there from the 
basest motives. It was in vain for his conscience 
to remind him that, bad as he was, at least he 
had no evil intent toward the children. He was 
feeling so raw, his temper so savage, that he was 
almost ready to deny this, to accuse himself of 
some black motive which had not yet come to light. 
He had a hard contempt for himself, a hatred 
toward Flamel for having brought him into such 
a position, and he writhed under the familiar ribald 
speech of the men and women whom he encoun- 
tered, and who, taking him to be one of their own 
sort, addressed him as such. 

He was in no enviable frame of mind, therefore, 


9° 


The Sign of Triumph 


when he came upon a densely packed mass of chil- 
dren, straining and struggling to see over each 
other’s heads. In the centre of the circle around 
which they were formed two flaring cressets lit the 
kneeling figure of a juggler, whose intent eye and 
busy hands were keeping a constant stream of balls 
and sticks whirling through the air, circling over 
his head and falling to his hands again. On the 
outer edge of this group Noel saw a boy of about 
twelve, a slim, handsome, blue-eyed lad, whose 
bright brown curls, just touching his shoulder, had 
not yet given up all the gold of their earlier days. 
He held himself with a certain fearless self-con- 
fidence which spoke plainly of his origin, even if the 
richness of his clothing had not betrayed him. Noel 
noticed, as the light caught the front of his blue 
surcoat, that there were markings which plainly 
showed that a coat of arms had once been em- 
broidered there, and had been painstakingly re^ 
moved, stitch by stitch. This would argue one of 
two things, either that the lad had stolen the cloth- 
ing, or that he was, as so many of the children, a 
runaway, and feared detection. It did not take the 
man long to decide that the latter theory was the 
true one, for the boy’s personality forbade the other. 

But the thing which had attracted his eye was 
the sight of Flamel, her arm thrown across his 


The Sign of Triumph 91 

shoulder, her head bent to his ear. He could see 
from the persuasive pressure of her hand on his 
arm that she was coaxing him to come with her, 
while he, intent merely upon the feats of the juggler, 
desired only to be let alone. Noel saw him shake 
his head impatiently, and make a motion to rid 
himself of the hand on his shoulder, as it grew too 
persuasive, then he saw the woman whisper some- 
thing, and the boy, attentive at last, turn, look at 
her, and waver as if to go. 

A burst of passionate anger blazed up in the man, 
and, before he knew what he intended to do, he was 
beside them. In thinking of the matter afterward, 
it seemed to him that what he did then, he did, not 
for the sake of a strange child whom he had never 
seen before, but as if he acted in defence of his 
own younger self. 

He caught Famel’s hand from its resting-place 
and flung it from him with such force that she 
uttered a cry, partly from pain, and partly because 
the suddenness of his attack had startled her. 

“ God’s death ! ” he exclaimed, harshly, “ Let the 
boy alone.” 

Flamel began at once to whimper, and the lad 
squared about with a look of manly indignation on 
his face. 

“ Sir,” he cried, “ thou art no true gentleman 


9 2 


The Sign of Triumph 


to use a woman so. She hath done me no despite, 
nor asked aught of me save to come apart with her 
and hear a pretty tale of her sire who was a Cru- 
sader and did great deeds. She doth aver that ’tis 
the prettiest tale that ere I heard, and will hold 
my interest as none other. Wilt thou hear it with 
me?” 

Noel looked down into the wholly unsuspicious 
face turned so frankly to his, pity mingling with 
his indignation. He dropped his hand on the slim 
young shoulder, where it rested very gently. His 
voice had almost a mocking tenderness in it when 
he answered, “ Nay, boy, ’tis an old tale and one 
I know full well. Believe me, ’tis not worth the 
hearing, and will but give thee a sad heart after, 
nor is it one-half so amusing as the juggler here, 
or yon dancing bear.” 

“ What art thou minded to do ? ” flashed the 
woman, angrily, her whimpering stopped, since it 
produced no effect. “ Dost thou think to stay me? ” 

“ Ay, that I do,” he returned, looking at the 
bit of vicious weakness before him, as if he would 
like to break her for the rotten thing she was. 
“ Thou shalt neither filch his money nor his virtue.” 

“ Dieu de Dieu,” she burst out, furiously, “ since 
when didst thou become a white knight? Hath 
death put a cold hand on thy shoulder, that thou 


The Sign of Triumph 


93 


art on a sudden come so virtuous ? ” Then, seeing 
that her anger availed her no more than her tears, she 
melted to coaxing. “ Let be, I’ll do> the child no 
wrong, I swear it by the mass.” 

But Noel did not move. 

Once more Flamel waxed wroth. “ Fool,” she 
exclaimed, “ ’tis a lesson he must learn ,- what harm 
if I teach it to him or another.” 

Still Noel stood motionless, with guarding hand 
on the boy’s shoulder, and face like adamant. 

“ Then come with me thyself ; ” she laid a per- 
suasive hand upon his arm. 

He gave a sigh of disgust, yielded to her touch, 
and followed her as she threaded her devious way 
from the little circle of light into the shadows be- 
yond. He turned as he went with a satisfied smile 
to see the boy already absorbed in the wonders 
which the juggler was performing. 

The next morning he was still sleeping heavily 
at break of day when the camp began to stir. It 
was Flamel who at length aroused him, and, in 
his first moment of consciousness, he sat up from 
his hard bed, surveying the scene of confusion about 
him, unable to comprehend it. Then the events of 
yesterday came to him, and he began to bestir him- 
self for the day’s march. After a hasty meal from 


94 


The Sign of Triumph 


his almost empty pouch, he found Nicol where he 
had tethered him the night before, browsing con- 
tentedly. Having led him to the little stream and 
allowed him to drink his fill, he put on him the 
bridle and saddle — the latter having served as a 
pillow during the night and thus been protected, 
otherwise he had lacked it when he waked, for all 
had not slept during the dark hours, and amongst 
the first sounds of the morning were wondering 
inquiries for this or that missing article, and amaze- 
ment at the emptiness of purses which had been well 
filled overnight. There was little time for search, 
however, and little use in it beside, for already the 
gilded car of the Prophet was on the road. So the 
march of the day began. 

During the morning, when spirits were fresh, 
Noel had to bear not a few quips at the sorry con- 
dition of his steed ; these he met with very ill grace. 
One lusty fellow in passing paused beside Nicol to 
look and laugh his fill. 

“ Master, in getting thee a steed, hast thou not 
robbed the crows of their honest bait ? ” he asked, 
slapping himself in keen enjoyment of his own wit. 

“ Mount me on thy charger's back, good sir," 
broke in a pert piece of baggage who walked with 
him, and who had been casting eyes in Noel’s direc- 
tion this hour past. 


The Sign of Triumph 


95 


“ The man is more like to carry the horse, than 
the horse the man,” chimed in another rough fellow, 
who had a bear walking heavily after him, held in 
leash by a clanking chain. 

Noel’s temper was irritable and uncertain. “ Be- 
gone about your business,” he advised, significantly; 
“ at least the beast is not such carrion as thou, to 
batten and grow fat on living things.” 

“ Have a care to thy tongue, master, I like not 
ill names,” sullenly returned the bear leader, even 
making a faint motion to square himself for a more 
definite resentment, but a second look at Noel’s 
figure calmed his anger. 

The noon sun was pouring down on the road in 
fiercest heat, the steps of the children began to lag 
pitifully, when Noel felt a hand clutch at his cloth- 
ing, and heard a voice at his side beseeching him to 
wait. He halted to see the lad of the night before 
half-supporting the figure of a frail, golden-haired 
little girl, whose ghastly face showed every sign of 
extreme exhaustion, and whose slight figure leaned 
toward the boy in a confession of helpless weak- 
ness. 

“ Oh, sir, let her ride upon your charger,” he 
pleaded, dignifying Nicol with a respectful glance; 
“ she is almost spent by the heat and the length of 
the way, and I have not the strength to carry her.” 


96 The Sign of Triumph 

Noel looked at his diminutive figure, scarcely able 
to restrain a smile. “Is she your sister?” he 
asked, preparing the saddle as he spoke, and making 
ready to lift the weary child into it. 

“ I never saw her until a few days since, and only 
know her name. ’Tis Alaise,” he answered, simply. 

“ Come, child,” said Noel, holding out his hand. 

She moved toward him with arms outstretched 
and groping, her wide-open blue eyes fixed upon 
him with a blank, expressionless stare that told its 
own tale. “ God’s death,” exclaimed the man, as he 
caught the poor blind mite and swung her to Nicol’s 
broad back. Putting a guarding arm about her and 
walking quite close, Noel started the horse again. 
As he did so, the figure of the priest who was the 
nominal head of the band to which these children 
belonged loomed suddenly beside him. 

“ Sir, you do a good work,” he said, approvingly. 
“ God be with you,” and he raised his hand, making 
the sign of the cross in benediction. 

Noel flushed guiltily, as if he had been caught in 
some act of meanness, and, as the priest and boy 
moved away, Flamel tittered in his ear : “ Thou 
art coming to keep such godly company, Sieur Noel, 
I fear I must give thee my back ere long.” 

The day passed at last, very much as the day 
before had done, with war-cry, and hymns, and 


The Sign of Triumph 


97 


tales in the morning, and the weary effort to put 
one swollen, tired foot before the other in the hot 
afternoon. It was a silent and discouraged company 
that reached the walls of Blois an hour before the 
fall of night. Here they found the rampart crowded 
with wondering citizens who had gathered to watch 
their arrival. In the field about the city the children 
prepared to spend the night, for the syndics of the 
town would not allow this unruly horde within its 
walls, nor could they have accommodated them if 
they had. But the more charitable of the folk 
brought food, the women coming with their 
caught-up dresses filled with fresh-baked loaves, 
while others brought great jugs and pewter bowls 
of new milk, which the tired, thirsty children drank 
eagerly. These, when they had distributed their 
bounty, knelt reverently before the little Crusaders 
to ask a blessing, which was given in every instance 
with the grave importance affected by their leader, 
and which his followers were not slow to copy. 

Before the group in which Noel walked had 
reached the gates of Blois, Alaise had revived 
greatly, and a warm pink had succeeded the pallor 
of her face. Her slight figure no longer drooped 
pathetically. The man took pleasure in the change, 
and, in spite of Flamel’s efforts to prevent, he an- 
swered the child’s questions and listened to her prat- 


9 8 


The Sign of Triumph 


tie as the afternoon wore on. Just before taking 
her from her seat, when they had reached the camp, 
she said : 

“ Let me feel your face, Sieur Noel, so that 
I may know you again,” and he stood patiently, 
while, with the delicate touch of the blind, she 
passed her fingers slowly over each feature. When 
she reached the welted scar upon his forehead, she 
traced its shape, recognizing the loved and familiar 
cross. 

“ Thou didst say to me that thou wert not of 
this band,” she said. 

“ ’Tis true, I am not.” 

“ And that thou wert not a Crusader? ” 

“ No.” 

“ But I say that thou art one in spite of thyself. 
There is the mark. I feel it on thy forehead. Thou 
art God’s Crusader.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

At Dreux Castle, which, in the year 1212, held 
a commanding position in the County of Never s, 
almost on the border line between it and the Duchy 
of Burgundy, an old man was dying. The turret 
chamber in which he lay reflected strongly the hardy 
military character of its occupant. The afternoon 
sunlight coming through the narrow lancet win- 
dows fell on no tapestried walls, but touched grim, 
gray stone, as if trying to fresco it with patches 
of gold. The stone floor was bare, save for fresh, 
green rushes and aromatic herbs, which gave forth 
a pleasant odour under the foot of the passer. The 
few articles of furniture which the chamber con- 
tained were austerely simple, — a great carven cof- 
fer at the foot of the bed, a perch from which hung 
a shirt of mail, chausses and gauntlets, and a helmet 
weighed down by its huge crest, — a mailed arm 
and hand brandishing a sword. Beside these hung 
a shield bearing a cross patee, or, on a field, gules, 
and the words which had served the old warrior 


L.of 0. 


99 


IOO 


The Sign of Triumph 


both as motto and war-cry for threescore years and 
more, “Dreux, se garde ” 

On another perch near the east window, fastened 
by jesses and unhooded, sat my lord’s favourite 
hawks, two great gerfalcons, that dozed and waked, 
flapped wing and winked themselves to slumber, 
heedless of the fact that he upon whose hand they 
had so often perched, whose voice had been to them 
this long time the voice of law, was even then put- 
ting down his little authority, and slipping away 
from a world which had always bent to his master- 
ful will as unresistingly as the weakest child. He 
lay upon the great carved, uncurtained bed, breath- 
ing out his life labouredly, while outside in the nar- 
row stone corridor stifled sounds of weeping could 
be heard from the servants huddled together. Even 
in the courtyard below the men walked softly and 
spoke quietly, for, though Tristan de Dreux had 
ruled with an iron hand, he had ruled justly, with 
a certain grim kindliness which had caused love 
to follow his stern going. 

He was five years past his allotted fourscore 
years, and, until a short time ago, he had reared his 
proud old head like some ancient monarch of the 
forest, which had struck its roots so deep in the 
soil that time seemed to hold for it no menace, and 
just as a forest monarch is riven and laid low in a 


The Sign of Triumph 


IOI 


night, so had the old man fallen, killed by the blow 
which had lopped off one of his branches. 

He had seemed in rude health when the news 
flew through the castle — first as a vague intima- 
tion, later as a certain fact — that the lad, Raoul, 
the only son of the baron’s last son, was missing, 
gone none knew whither. When fear grew to cer- 
tainty, and search-party after search-party returned 
without the lad, the heart of the old warrior gave 
way under the anxiety, and a stroke laid him here 
upon his dying bed. 

Even now, with life almost fled, his face still held 
its look of power, and, when the closed eyes opened, 
they had the old flash of command, though the 
rough-hewn features were white and pinched and 
the lips almost colourless. His hair, just touching 
his shoulders in silver whiteness, rippled up at the 
ends as softly as a child’s. Despite the heat of 
the July day, the rich coverlet of minever was drawn 
to his chin, and at times a slight rigor passed over 
the quiet form. A woman entered the room, with 
tread so noiseless that it was almost impossible 
to catch its sound, but the sick man stirred and 
opened his eyes. He fixed his gaze on hers with 
a look of commanding eagerness. As plainly as 
if in words, he questioned her, and read his answer 


102 


The Sign of Triumph 

in her white and sorrowing face, without need of 
the slight negative motion of the head. 

The eager light faded slowly from his old face, 
but the eyes remained fixed on hers. She drew 
near and bent tenderly over him. With an effort, 
he asserted rather than questioned: 

“Thou hast heard somewhat?” 

“ Nay, very little. From the stables come the 
fact which they have hitherto kept from me: the 
little Andalusian horse which thou gavest him is 
gone also. He was ever venturesome; perchance 
he has ridden into the forest to hunt, and hath 
missed his way. Leon hath gone forth again with 
a search-party; surely there must be news ere long.” 
She spoke with an effort at self-command, but the 
soft robe of green embroidered Almari silk rose and 
fell with her bosom’s heaving, telling a tale of in- 
ward storm, and the face bending above him was 
scarcely less white than the folds of the couvrechief 
which, partially shading ear and cheek by its con- 
cealing droop, fell from the jewelled band clasping 
her head. 

For a minute the stem gaze of the man held her 
eyes to his, as if trying to rend from her anything 
which she might desire to conceal, then it slipped 
and fell, and in that instant he seemed to relax 
the grip with which he had been holding to life. 


The Sign of Triumph 103 

The helpless look of a disappointed child flitted over 
his poor, drawn face. 

The woman sank on her knees at the bedside, 
and shut away for an instant the pitiful gaze which 
wrung her already tortured heart. The jewelled 
metal of her girdle struck the bed, and gave a gay 
little rattle, which sounded loudly in the quiet cham- 
ber. 

Long she kneeled thus, forgetful of fatigue, her 
intent eyes fastened on the face before her, her 
ear listening to every variation of that laboured 
breath. Time passed slowly; the shadows moved 
across the wall, creeping silently, as if they knew 
themselves to be thieves bearing away the little life 
of this man. Suddenly the determined old eyes 
flashed open once more. 

“ Alienor, if it so hap that the boy comes not 
soon, — after I am gone, — perchance, nay, of a 
certainty, the Count de Nevers will declare the fief 
escheat, and my son’s son will lose his inheritance. 
Raoul is not dead. Such thing cannot — shall not 
be. Do thou, my child, hold the castle for him ’til 
he comes again, nor let De Nevers nor any other 
take it from thee. I require and charge thee, keep 
the boy’s inheritance for him.” His voice, which 
had been weak and gasping at the beginning, gath- 
ered strength and even harshness as he proceeded. 


104 


The Sign of Triumph 


Each word seemed to strike the pale, kneeling 
woman as so many blows. 

She lifted a proud, reproachful face, and her 
voice sounded a note of pained surprise. 

“ Dost thou forget, my father, that Raoul is my 
child ? Whenever have I failed toward him, toward 
thee, or toward thy long dead son ? ” 

The stern look flitted swiftly from his face at 
sound of her words. His gaunt feeble hand sought 
her head weakly, and rested there tenderly. 

“ Alienor — forgive — I meant it not. Thou 
hast ever been a jewel of discretion, dear to me as 
mine own flesh. I took thee well-nigh dowerless 
to be my son’s bride, and thou hast been in thyself 
a rich dower. I trust thee in all things. Thou wilt 
do all that I command.” 

“ I will do all that woman may, and all that in 
me lies,” she said, with a solemnity which made her 
promise seem an oath. Indeed she felt it such. 

“ I rest content, for I know thee ; thou canst 
do more than most men.” He closed his eyes, and 
seemed to yield himself up for the last time. His 
hand still rested heavily on the bowed head. Thus 
they remained, she praying beneath her breath for 
living and dead, he floating softly into the land 
of shadows. Outside, the half-stifled sobs of the 
servitors sounded on the silence. 


The Sign of Triumph 


105 


At length the figure on the bed uttered a choked 
word, strove to raise his head, and, feebly lifting 
an arm, as if he again brandished his sword, cried, 
“ Dreux, se garde ” and ceased to breathe. 

Had he, perchance, mounting the pale steed which 
shall come in time to neigh before every portal, 
ridden down into the dark valley, and meeting there 
the grim conqueror who overcomes all, uttered for 
the last time his challenge and defiance, “ Dreux , se 
garde? ” 


CHAPTER VII. 


Noel spent the second night after joining the 
Crusaders within the walls of Blois, dice-cup in 
hand. At last Fortune had turned to smile upon 
him. When he rose from the tables in the gray 
dawn and swept his winnings into his pouch, it was 
with the joyful realization that he was free, that 
he need not go to La Manche now unless it pleased 
him. Before reaching Vendome, he would have had 
little trouble in deciding this question, but these 
past two days had awakened a new feeling within 
him. He realized for the first time the utter vaga- 
bondage into which he was slipping, and experi- 
enced a sense of shame because of it. The better 
part of his nature told him to go to La Manche, 
take service as a soldier, and by hard fighting and 
plain living save to himself the remnant of his man- 
hood. But the careless day-to-day existence of the 
past months, its sloth and ease, had undermined his 
character more than he was willing to believe, and, 
though he did consider very seriously the question 





“ BEFORE HIM, PUSHED TO ITS VERY EDGE, WAS THE BOY 




io7 


The Sign of Triumph 

of going, it was only to decide that for a few days 
at any rate he would stay as he was, then turn back 
to better things. To-morrow — to-morrow — how 
many good resolutions have gone down into that 
pit for all of us ? Yet he believed this promise when 
he made it to himself, nor did he doubt his strength 
to put it into effect. 

The camp was astir when Noel, passing through 
the city gate, walked over the just lowered draw- 
bridge. Some few of the more impatient pilgrims, 
already on the move, were taking their way over the 
bridge which here spanned the River Loire. 

Noel, in search of Flamel, was skirting the deep 
moat which surrounded the town, when, suddenly 
rounding an angle formed by one of the bastions, 
he heard the sound of harshly disputing voices. 
At the same instant he caught sight of the bear- 
tamer who had attempted his pleasantries at Nicol’s 
expense the day before. The man was standing 
near the moat, and before him, pushed to its very 
edge, was the boy, Raoul, in an attitude of defiance. 

“ Give it to me, give it to me, thou spawn of 
Satan, else will I cast thee in the moat,” he heard 
the harsh voice raised to a pitch of fury, while the 
man, as if to carry his threat into effect, caught 
the child by the back of his clothing, and, lifting 
him ever so little from his foothold, suspended him 


io8 


The Sign of Triumph 


over the water. The lad’s face was white, his eyes 
blazing indignantly, and a look of grim determina- 
tion showed around the curves of his mouth. He 
did not scream or struggle, but hung in the ruffian’s 
grasp with the limp resistlessness of a thoroughbred 
puppy. 

At last he set him on his feet again. “ Now 
wilt thou give it to me? Or shall I drop thee in 
the moat to drown like a rat ? ” demanded the brute, 
fiercely. 

The child’s big blue eyes widened, sending a look 
of defiant anger straight at his enemy. Noel was 
near enough to catch it, and it cut him with a swift 
sense of familiarity. 

“ Nay, I will not,” said the determined mite, his 
fist still tight closed over the object of contention. 

Uttering an oath, the man dealt a swift, deft, 
upward blow, which struck the child’s clinched fist 
from beneath, and by its force caused the muscles 
to relax involuntarily, flinging a gold piece into the 
air. The coin fell at some distance, and, loosing 
his hold on Raoul, he sprang toward it with a tri- 
umphant exclamation. It had fallen not far from 
Noel, and, before the bully could reach it, a guard- 
ing foot had been placed over it. 

“ Stand away, master, and let me take mine 
own,” was the surly demand. 


The Sign of Triumph 109 

“ Let me first be assured that ’tis thine,” answered 
Noel, without moving. 

“ That I swear by the mass. I was robbed of 
it as I slept by yon nimble fingers.” He nodded 
toward Raoul. 

At this the boy uttered his first cry, and ran 
toward Noel. “Oh, sir, oh, sir, he speaks falsely; 
’tis mine, indeed, ’tis mine. He came to me a-beg- 
ging, and, when I thrust my hand into my pouch 
to share with him as we are bidden to do, he saw 
the coin and commanded me to give it him. This 
I would not, for I cannot take commands from such 
a scurvy knave. I am a Dre — ” He checked him- 
self quickly, casting a swift look of alarm at both 
men, as if he feared that they had caught his half- 
uttered word. 

“ He lies in his teeth. Give me the coin, master, 
or else pay the reckoning,” exclaimed the man, 
threateningly. 

Still Noel remained motionless, his attitude an 
invitation. 

Seeing that words would have no effect, and be- 
ing too far gone in anger and balked cupidity to 
count the cost, the ruffian made a lunge, and found 
himself the next instant sprawling incontinently on 
the green sward. He got to his feet, more mad- 
dened than ever by the cool, smiling face of the 


I IO 


The Sign of Triumph 


man who stood, calm and unruffled, waiting his 
next move. He made a second attack, this time 
striking wildly but with all his force. Again he 
met the earth, Noel’s blow taking him fairly in the 
mouth. He got up, his lip cut and bleeding, and 
spat out a broken tooth, growling a deep-mouthed 
oath under his breath. 

Noel made a little motion of the fists, as if to 
invite his return, but the other, now thoroughly 
cowed, beat a hasty retreat, loudly swearing ven- 
geance, but inwardly resolving to keep out of reach 
of those sledge-hammer fists in the future. 

During this time Raoul stood at gaze, lost in 
admiration of strength such as this. Even after 
his assailant had slunk away, he kept his keen 
young eyes fixed on Noel’s face, as if he were 
searching and weighing him critically. He began 
to draw near then, slowly, until he paused at last 
directly before him. Noel moved his foot aside, dis- 
closing the coin pressed into the earth. 

“ There lies thy money. Best keep it safe hid, 
an thou want not further trouble,” he advised. 

The boy made no motion to take it, but waited, 
looking first at the man, then at the coin, in so 
suggestive a manner that, ere he was aware of it 
himself, the look of expectation in the child’s face 


The Sign of Triumph 


1 1 1 


made Noel bend, and, taking the gold piece from 
the dirt, tender it to him. 

“ He is some little lordling, for it is plain to see 
he hath been right used to humble service,” thought 
the man. 

Raoul accepted the money, and held it doubtfully 
on his palm. 

“ Sir, I owe thee great thanks for thy defence. 
An the man had asked as a Christian, I had not 
withheld the coin from him, but I liked not his way 
of begging. Wilt thou keep it for me, lest he set 
upon me again ? ” He held it out trustfully. 

Noel shook his head. “ I have enough ado to 
guard mine own, and why shouldst thou trust me 
to hold it safely and give it to thee again ? ” he 
asked, curiously. 

The boy threw back his head and vented a joyous 
little laugh, as if something amusing had been said. 
“ I know that thou wilt,” was the only answer that 
he vouchsafed. But still Noel shook his head, and 
after a moment Raoul dropped the coin into his 
pouch with a sigh. “ Tis of little matter,” he said, 
slowly. “ We have no need of money on this jour- 
ney, for the Lord Jesus will move the hearts of the 
people to feed us, because we go to rescue His Holy 
Sepulchre. By what name do they call thee? ” he 
then asked, abruptly. 


I 12 


The Sign of Triumph 


“ Noel Talbot.” 

“ Talbo’, Talbo’ ; ” he made a little wry face, as 
if he did not like the sound. “ I cry your pardon, 
but it hath a strange and foreign ring to mine ear. 
I will call thee Noel.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

If Noel thought that, in knocking down Raoul’s 
adversary and ridding the child of persecution he 
had ended the matter, he was soon to be undeceived. 
Not that he had any further trouble with the man. 
It was the child with whom he had to reckon, the 
child, who, bubbling over with gratitude and ad- 
miration toward his new frietld, sought him at 
every turn, and clung to his side, utterly unaware 
of the bored embarrassment which his persistent 
company inflicted. 

At first, Noel sent him away, not unkindly, but 
with very transparent excuses, which, however, the 
child did not see, never dreaming himself to be 
unwelcome. He liked to walk at Noel’s side, and 
chatter amiably to him of all his little interests, and, 
when Noel talked, as he sometimes did, to gaze on 
him with trustful, admiring eyes that gave the man 
many a pang. If any one told a tale of noble or 
knightly deed, Raoul immediately fitted it to his 
hero. “ That would be thine act, Noel,” he would 


13 


1 14 The Sign of Triumph 

say, in assured tone, slipping a \varm little hand 
for an instant into' the man's big one. At this, 
Flamel would break into mocking laughter, and 
jibe him slyly with those mosquito pricks that fret 
and irritate, even where they have not power to 
wound. In the beginning he was sometimes sav- 
agely sorry that he had not left the lad to his fate; 
at least, he said as much to himself in his moments 
of irritation. In the end, the stronger yielded to 
the weaker, as it so often does in nature, and Noel 
not only ceased to try and rid himself of the boy, 
but accepted him as he had accepted Nicol. 

“ He follows at thy heels like a calf with its nose 
for ever at the udders of its dam,” exclaimed Flamel, 
disgustedly. At which Noel bade her be silent, add- 
ing a few ugly oaths to' strengthen his command. 

“ Nay, silent I will not be, and, if thou art going 
to turn thyself into a nursing mother for all this 
brood of children, I’ll have none of thee. There 
is many another pretty fellow more to my taste, 
and that thou shalt see full soon, Sieur Noel,” say- 
ing which she flung herself angrily away from him. 

He did not call her back, as she had felt sure 
that he would ; but let her go with a sigh of relief, 
and that night, when they camped, he saw that she 
had fulfilled her threat, and had other company bet- 
ter to her liking. 


The Sign of Triumph 115 

Flamef s parting fleer had not been altogether 
in reference to Raoul, for, after a day or two, he 
was not the only one of the children who sought 
Noel’s company. But it was Raoul who caused the 
new state of things, for, if any child in the band 
became too fatigued, he brought him with assured 
confidence to ride on Nicol; if any little one had 
a hurt to foot or other member, — and this was 
not unusual, — he brought him to Noel. In less 
than two days the children had learned that here 
was a kind hand to bind their wounds, and a keen 
eye to see that no injustice was done them, and they 
sought him with the fearless trust which children 
and animals show toward certain people. Even 
the half-mad priest appealed to Noel for aid when 
some gross irregularity was forced upon his dream- 
ing notice. Gradually, imperceptibly, the man 
found himself acting as guard-dog to these hundred 
and fifty children, and watching over them with a 
sense of responsibility which moved him to laughter 
whenever he thought of it soberly. It was the first 
time in his life that he had held toward any young 
thing a position of protection, and it aroused some- 
thing of whose existence he had hitherto been ig- 
norant. He grew to have a curious double feeling 
in his attitude toward these little ones, that, in pro- 
tecting them, he was protecting his own youth. The 


1 1 6 The Sign of Triumph 

life which he had led had not rendered his nature 
impure. He had been wofully guilty in many 
things, yet, underlying all, there was a respect for 
purity and a belief in it, which, so long as it remains 
in the heart, makes the acquirement of it possible. 

The third evening after leaving Blois found the 
Crusaders encamped about twelve leagues on the 
road to Bourges. As usual, when the day’s march 
was at an end, the children dropped where they 
were, some even falling asleep supperless. They 
had been obliged to make camp earlier than usual, 
for fatigue was telling so upon the weaker ones that 
they were unable to keep up through the long, hot 
hours between dawn and darkness. Each day 
seemed more torrid than its predecessor, and the 
fierce sun was drying brook and stream in a way to 
frighten any save this faith-mad multitude. They 
pointed to the empty runways and sandy beds of 
the watercourses with joy, seeing in them an evi- 
dence that the sea was also being dried in prepara- 
tion for their passage. At least some of them did ; 
others, and they were many, seemed to have for- 
gotten, or never to have known, that they must 
traverse a great body of water before reaching their 
destination, and at sight of every tur reted castle 
upon the hills they passed, or every walled town 
glimmering in the distance, asked, eagerly, hope- 


The Sign of Triumph 


1 17 


fully, “ Is this Jerusalem? ” and wept anew at each 
disappointment. 

Camp had been made more than an hour, though 
the sun was only then sinking below the horizon 
of the plain like a ball of red fire in a smoky haze 
of cloud, — fine promise of a burning day on the 
morrow. Many of the children were asleep, hud- 
dled in weary groups on the still hot earth. Noel 
had found a patch of meagre grass which had re- 
sisted the heat of the sun, and here he tethered 
Nicol, who was browsing contentedly, while his 
master reclined not far away, Raoul at his side, 
as he was pretty sure to be now at all times. The 
child had been questioning Noel of the horse, and 
of how the poor beast had come by the wound, whose 
scar still showed, and Noel had told him all the tale. 
As he described the spot where he had discovered 
Nicol, the young knight stark and dead, the beast 
helpless and dying, the almost human cry which 
the animal had sent after him when he had left 
in search of water, and his joy at his return, he 
felt the boy edge closer until he rested a confiding 
cheek on the shoulder next him. It was the merest 
touch, so light that Noel could scarcely feel it, but 
it spoke so eloquently O’f trust and affection that 
it moved him more powerfully than anything which 
he could remember. He felt his breath catch for a 


1 1 8 The Sign of Triumph 

moment, interrupting the even flow of his story, 
and he was conscious that he held every muscle 
tense and rigid, lest some untoward movement cause 
the child to change his position. After a little, 
Raoul sat up, and Noel sighed softly, hardly know- 
ing whether he was sorry or relieved. An instant 
later,' the boy bounded away, leaving Noel in a 
brown study. 

He had not awakened from his reverie when the 
lad returned in the important haste of childhood, 
his face alight with joyful intention. He came 
straight toward Noel, and, before the man was aware 
of his purpose, had laid on his left shoulder a cross 
of crimson cloth, and was attempting to make it fast. 

Noel caught the rag from its place and dashed 
it from him as if it had been something venomous. 
He stared fiercely at it as it lay on the green sward, 
while Raoul, torn between grief and fright, gazed 
reproachfully at him, his under lip quivering sen- 
sitively. 

“ But thou art a Crusader, Noel,” he hesitated at 
length. “ Why shouldst thou not wear the cross 
as do the others ? ” 

Still he made no answer, but stared fixedly at 
the bit of red. 

Raoul eyed him soberly, as if at a loss to make 


The Sign of Triumph 119 

out in what he had offended; then he said, but 
more as if he spoke to himself than to Noel: 

“ But thou dost wear the cross despite thyself/ ” 
and he drew near fearlessly, touching the scar on 
the man’s forehead, lightly tracing its crossed line, 
as blind Alaise had done. “ God hath already 
marked thee, and ’twas by this that I knew thee 
for what thou art,” he said, confidently. 

“ Maybe, Raoul,” answered the other, with a 
bitter laugh, roused at last by the boy’s words, “ but 
’twas the devil’s branding-iron that set it there ; ” 
and so saying he got on his feet, and strode over 
the ground as if the evil one were in pursuit, — 
nay, the simile is not a good one, for when before 
had Noel ever fled evil? The child’s innocent speech 
had cut very deeply, laying open a sense of sting- 
ing shame. He remembered the disgraceful quarrel 
which had gotten him the scar, and thought how 
Flamel would have mocked had she been there to 
hear. He wished that he might make the boy under- 
stand how unworthy this mark was, but he recog- 
nized the wrong of such a confession to such a con- 
fessor, even while feeling himself a hypocrite in 
remaining silent. In spite of the weariness of the 
day’s march, he walked far, his spirit ever goading 
him on by new and humiliating recollections which 
had long since passed from his mind, and which 


120 


The Sign of Triumph 

now arose to confront him in an entirely new guise. 
On one point he was determined : at the next town, 
he would leave this company, where he felt himself 
under false pretences with both parties, and, taking 
service, against which he had rebelled too long, he 
would cease this life of vagabondage. 

Darkness found him turning back toward the 
camp, and, when he reached it, he could not be 
content until he had sought out the band of chil- 
dren with whom Raoul marched. He walked softly 
amongst the tired huddled bodies, bending often in 
the bright moonlight for a closer sight of a sleeping 
face until at last he descried the one he sought. 
The boy was in deep sleep, half-lying against his 
light cross, which he had placed beside him. 

Satisfied, Noel turned away, and found a spot 
where an overhanging vine trailed from tree to 
bush, affording a shadowy shelter. Here he threw 
himself down, face to earth, the tormenting thoughts 
which had been with him for hours still marshal- 
ling themselves in accusing ranks before him. He 
wished that he might get away from the sight of 
men, escape from himself, if that were mercifully 
possible, go beyond even the knowledge of God, — 
if indeed there was such an one. 


CHAPTER IX. 

In the days which followed the death of Tristan 
de Dreux and the loss of her boy, Alienor de Dreux 
felt that her lot had gone beyond bearing. The 
boy had been for years the one object of love for 
a heart which needed some one on whom to expend 
its wealth. But twenty-eight years old now, at fif- 
teen she had been handed over to the son of old 
Sir Tristan. He was not an uncomely fellow, but 
she had had no voice in the marriage, and no love 
for the husband who interested her not a whit, and 
toward whom she soon felt as a prisoner toward 
his gaoler. Not that he was harsh or unkind toward 
her, for he loved her, but his love, all unwelcome as 
it was, became her heaviest burden. After a time 
she bore him a son, and the new wonder of mother- 
hood swallowed all other feeling. Before his pres- 
ence began to irk her again, he was stricken down 
on the field and borne home dead. 

If any feeling possessed her in those first days 
of widowhood, it was one of dim relief; for this 


121 


122 


The Sign of Triumph 


she took herself sternly to task, yet harboured it 
in a dark corner of her being long after she thought 
it routed and driven thence. 

Raoul grew, and her nature, so made for loving, 
lavished its whole being on the boy, and found 
peace and contentment, if not absolute happiness. 

But that year of wifehood had so scarred her 
soul that she shrunk from the thought of a second 
marriage. Lovers she had, for she was beautiful 
if dowerless, but none moved her, and she was no 
longer a child to be handed over without protest 
to whomsoever it was thought fit. Indeed, the 
baron, in whose hands the matter now lay, had little 
wish to see her wed again, so eleven years slipped 
by, leaving no mark upon her, save to mature and 
ripen her beauty without marring its delicacy. 

Thus it was with her when the storm caught her 
in its swirl, and tore away the prop upon which she 
leaned, and the hope to which she looked. How 
heavy the days which succeeded her double loss 
only her own weary heart knew, for she bore her- 
self calmly, striving gallantly to close a firm hand 
of authority on the reins of government, lest, miss- 
ing the masterful grip of the dead baron, there 
come disorder in her little kingdom. Those about 
her forgot the grieving mother heart, and thought 
her more man than woman in her manner of taking 


123 


The Sign of Triumph 

the new responsibilities thrust upon her. Only 
Father Bernard, her chaplain and confessor, knew 
how the woman ached beneath her calm exterior, 
fearing the burdens which she must bear. He saw 
tears and trembling where others saw calmness and 
command. 

From the terrible apathy which had fallen on her 
spirit, she was suddenly aroused, about two weeks 
after the death of Sir Tristan, by the appearance of 
a messenger from Thibaut, Count de Nevers, sum- 
moning Dreux to send into the field for his service 
the hundred men-at-arms, which was the number 
that the fief must furnish its feudal lord for a period 
not to exceed six weeks out of each year. This 
meant not only leaving the garrison reduced by the 
loss of four hundred or more men, — for each man- 
at-arms was accompanied by three fighting men, 
— but it meant the absence of Sir Gilbert Arrode 
and several of the squires, thus placing the com- 
mand of Dreux in the hands of La Lange, a man 
toward whom Alienor held an instinctive distrust. 

She knew that if the baron’s death became known 
to the Duke of Burgundy, she had much to fear, 
as Dreux Castle had been a bone of contention be- 
tween him and De Nevers from time immemorial. 
It was a strongly fortified defence, so commandingly 
placed as to be a position of great advantage in 


124 


The Sign of Triumph 


time of war, and it was said that many years before 
the Barons of Dreux paid homage for this fief to 
the Duke of Burgundy, instead of the Count of 
Nevers, and that during some dispute it had been 
seized by the latter, and ever since successfully held. 
If this were true, the time was indeed long past, and 
no record of it remained to give certain information ; 
but that the Duke of Burgundy had for many years 
cast covetous eyes upon Dreux, seeking any excuse 
to lay hold of it, no one who knew anything of the 
case attempted to deny. 

But whatever the risks or whatever her fears, 
De Nevers’s commands were law, and, after two 
days spent in hasty preparation, Alienor watched 
her men ride gaily out of the castle and take the 
steep road leading down the hill. When they were 
hidden from view, she turned away with a sigh 
which held in it an unuttered wish that the alle- 
giance of Dreux might have been given to a lord 
less factious than Thibaut de Nevers, and one less 
given to petty quarrelling. 

After this there succeeded a period of quiet at 
the castle, and the foreboding which had at first 
tormented Alienor gave place to a sense of security, 
as day after day passed eventlessly. This left her 
mind free to go back to its grieving over the lost 
child, from whom no tidings had yet come. 


The Sign of Triumph 


125 


It was almost three weeks before she was startled 
into life by the arrival of two fear-stricken villains 
from a small holding not far beyond the hamlet, 
which had grown up under the hill in the protecting 
shadow of the castle. 

These, having somewhat recovered from their 
fright on finding themselves in such impregnable 
quarters, told how they had been cutting hay in the 
meadow, and had heard the oncoming of many 
mounted men. Being afraid, — for the countryman 
of that day was likely to hunt cover like a fright- 
ened rabbit whenever his betters rode in companies, 
— they had hidden beneath a thick hedge which 
bordered the roadway. From their place of conceal- 
ment they had seen a great army ride by, — or 
so it seemed to their frightened wits, — wearing 
the colours of the Duke of Burgundy, and from 
fragments of talk they had gathered that the Bur- 
gundians rode to take the Castle of Dreux. “ The 
old lord being dead, and a woman in command, and 
the garrison much reduced.” The countrymen 
learned from the talk that the duke himself did 
not lead this expedition, but Rudolf of Steinbeck, 
a man noted for his cruelty and determination, and 
that Burgundy had promised him the castle and 
fief of Dreux if he succeeded in taking it. 

The day was on the decline when these evil tidings 


126 


The Sign of Triumph 


arrived, and before darkness fell there was confirma- 
tion in plenty if any were needed, for up the hill 
from the hamlet came the frightened folk, one driv- 
ing a slow-footed bullock, another leading his cow 
or his goat, and every comer, man or woman, carry- 
ing some part of the precious household stuff away 
from the wreck and pillage which was sure to fol- 
low in the wake of the Burgundian standard. For 
these the drawbridge was lowered, and as many as 
possible housed; the others were obliged to spend 
the night in the bailey, with the heavens for bed- 
curtains, and bullock, cow, and goat for bedfellows. 
This was no great hardship, however, seeing that 
it was August and the heat great, and but little sleep 
could come to any within the castle walls that night, 
for through all the dark hours there was the flare of 
cresset and the sound of hammer, where the men 
were busy setting the hoarding in place on the walls, 
and the constant noise of feet coming and going, 
as the workers carried stones up to' the ramparts and 
set them ready to the soldier’s hand. There was 
little fear of a night attack, for the flash and glow 
of flaming houses in the hamlet beneath told the 
watchers where the Burgundians were, and what 
engaged them. Nevertheless, there was a lookout in 
every tower and the walls were manned. 

While these preparations were going on without, 


The Sign of Triumph 


127 


Lady Alienor, wakeful and restless, paced the great 
hall above, her head drooping forward, as if she 
carried a burden which wearied her, two deep lines 
wrinkling her white brow. She paused now and 
again to send out a new command, or to speak with 
Father Bernard, who came and went, bringing news 
of the progress without. 

At length she stopped in her walk, and her face 
wore a look of determination, as if she had reached 
a decision of whose value she had no doubt. 

“ Go,” she commanded her little page, who sat 
leaning a sleepy head against the back of his chair, 
striving gallantly to keep his heavy lids apart, “ find 
Leon Saint Yon, and bid him come to me at once.” 

The boy, roused by her sharp command, fought 
off the sleep which threatened to conquer him, for 
well he knew that when her voice rang thus, his 
mistress brooked no delay. 

When Saint Yon entered the hall, Alienor had 
given over her restless pacing, and seated herself 
in a great dark carven chair which Sir Tristan used 
to occupy. 

“ Leon/' she said, in quick, decisive tone, hardly 
waiting for him to reach her, “ I have trusty work 
for thee to do, nor do I need to ask if thou wilt 
perform it to the best of thine ability. I must send 


128 The Sign of Triumph 

thee hence this night to summon aid for us. How 
soon canst thou be ready for a start ? ” 

At her words, a shadow had fallen on the young 
man’s face. It did not escape her quick eye, and 
it brought her brows together in sudden anger. 
“ How now, sir, have I mistaken ? Art thou, then, 
unready to do my bidding?” 

“ Stay, my lady, I beg,” he held out a protesting 
hand. “ Thou art doing me grievous wrong. Leon 
Saint Yon is thy loyal servant, and thy slightest will 
is law with him. Yet, my lady, I will be bold and 
say to thee, I would thy service were any other 
than that which took me from thy side at such a 
moment as this.” 

Her face cleared; she smiled indulgently into 
his eager young face. “ Yet, Leon, if thou best 
serve me so — ? ” 

Still the young man’s face remained grave; he 
answered by a slight shake of the head, which 
showed him still reluctant. 

She observed him narrowly for an instant. 
“ Leon, say all thy say, for I plainly see that some- 
what lieth behind thy reluctance.” 

He hesitated, reddened slightly, then broke out 
impulsively : “ I scarce know how to give word to 
my thoughts, my lady, for I have little of fact to 
stand behind this feeling, yet — yet — I know not 


The Sign of Triumph 129 

why, but I like not to leave thee wholly dependent 
upon La Lange.” 

She leaned forward quickly, her small white hand 
darting out, caught the sleeve of his surcote. 

“ Hast thou had this thought as well ? ” she asked, 
in low tones. “ But seest thou not that this but 
makes thy going the greater necessity? Help we 
must have, and swiftly. He who goes to fetch it 
must go by the secret passage which comes out be- 
neath the hill. Dare I trust La Lange to bring help 
if I send him, dare I trust him with the secret of 
the passage, dare I trust any but thee or Father 
Bernard with this knowledge ? ” She gave empha- 
sis to each question by a tightened clutch upon his 
arm, intently watching his face as she spoke. 

He did not answer for a moment, but gazed fix- 
edly at her, as if he weighed each word to its full; 
then he spoke with slow conviction. 

“ Thou art right, now as ever, my lady. I must 
indeed go, but God keep thee safe till I come again.” 

At another time she would have smiled at his 
young conceit, which seemed to say that once back 
at her side no higher power was needed for her 
defence than his good right arm ; now she was 
too intent upon the matter in hand to notice such a 
trifle. 

“ Then, since thou art convinced, give good heed 


130 The Sign of Triumph 

to my words. This night I will show thee the 
secret passage. Make ready for thy going, and 
have a good torch to bear thee company in that 
dark and foul way, but have a care to beat it out 
ere thou pass the entrance, lest its glimmer betray 
thee to any watching eye. Once outside take the 
path before thee, which leads to the little holding 
of Andrea Bontemp, and may the good God grant 
that these thieving Burgundians have not already 
found the man before thee, for he hath in his keep 
two fleet coursers, placed there to meet just such 
occasion as this. Andrea dwelleth somewhat apart 
from the village and to the north, hence I have good 
hope that he hath thus far been left unmolested. 
When, or if thou dost find him, greet the old man, 
and say exactly as I tell thee : ‘ Good Master Bon- 
temp, I hear that thy gray mare hath foaled, and 
I would buy of thee that which she hath dropped.’ 
Hearing this, he will know that thou art come from 
the castle, and will straightly make ready the horse 
for thy going. Then ride, Leon, ride as never thou 
didst afore, to where my Lord of Nevers is ; say to 
him that we are beleaguered, that our force is small, 
and our fighting must needs be wholly defensive. 
Besides this, we are not well provisioned, and many 
of the village folk having sought refuge here, it 
doth make but the more mouths to fill. Say to him, 


The Sign of Triumph 13 1 

an he wish not to lose his rich fief of Dreux to 
Burgundy, his enemy, to send my men and come 
himself to our aid. Dost thou understand me well, 
Leon, and wilt thou do thy diligence to carry out 
my command ? ” 

“ Ay, lady mine, I will spare neither horse nor 
man in this, and will fetch aid as soon as may be. 
But if Andrea hath not survived, or surviving, hath 
been reft of the horses — ” 

“ Then thou must trust to mother wit, Leon, to 
get thee another horse, perchance from a Bur- 
gundian. Be not overnice with the use of thy 
weapon; remember that many lives lie in thy hand, 
and strike ruthlessly if need come. I have sent to 
thy chamber a surcote of green, with powderings of 
red, which hath much the look of the habit worn 
by Steinbeck’s men. Go fearlessly amongst them 
if need be, but be not foolhardy. I trust thee. Now 
away, and, when thou art full armed and arrayed, 
come to the donjon, and I will set thee on thy way.” 


CHAPTER X. 


When the next morning broke, it found Alienor, 
who had sought her bed late and slept but ill, wait- 
ing its coming at the casement. She had risen often 
during the night to note with heavy heart the fires 
that winked here and there in the valley below, tell- 
ing her how the ruthless soldiery were burning and 
pillaging the homes of her people. 

The first rays of the sun roused unusual sounds 
in the bailey, where the cows, disturbed by their 
strange surroundings, lowed solemnly, the goats 
bleated, and even a favourite cock, brought in be- 
neath the cloak of a loving mistress, mingled its 
complaints with those of the crying children and 
chattering dames. Looking down on all this con- 
fusion, Alienor’s heart was filled with pity for the 
poor plight of these mean ones, on whom the quar- 
rels of their betters seemed ever to fall with heavi- 
est force. 

When the light came fully, it revealed all that 
the night-watch had taught her to expect. The 


132 


133 


The Sign of Triumph 

Burgundians had finished their orgy of destruction, 
and the castle was now fully invested, for even on 
the southeast and southwest front, where the land 
fell away so sharply as to form a natural defence, 
the Burgundians had stationed themselves in scat- 
tered groups, meant to prevent any of the besieged 
from escaping to summon help. Seeing this, Alie- 
nor smiled slowly; then, as if she tempted Provi- 
dence by her self-congratulation, she sent up a quick 
whispered prayer for the safety of her messenger. 
On the north front, which must of necessity be the 
point of attack, the Burgundians were drawn up 
well out of bow-shot, and seemed to be eating and 
sleeping, not making any preparation for assault. 

Descending from her chamber, Alienor crossed the 
court, followed by white-haired Marcel, her cellar- 
man, and the oldest of her servitors. Entering the 
bailey, she walked amongst the frightened village 
folk, who, seeing her, dropped their tasks to rise 
and give her reverent greeting. Here she found 
many sad faces, and much foreboding; indeed, she 
was not slow to see that the whole of her small 
garrison wore very sober countenances. This dis- 
quieted her, for she well knew that a soldier con- 
quers as much by his belief in himself as by the 
strength of his arm, and a hopeless garrison is a 
half-conquered one. She was puzzled to account for 


i34 


The Sign of Triumph 


such a state of things, for it was far from the temper 
which usually animated the men of Dreux. Was it 
because she held command instead of a man? Yet, 
why so, since a man virtually commanded? Again 
an uneasy fear of La Lange asserted itself. One 
cause for heavy-heartedness she discovered in the 
fact that the wife of a poor villain, who had been 
great with child, had dropped her still-born babe 
in the night, and the old women shook knowing 
heads, and said it was an evil omen that death should 
thus stalk ahead of the sword. 

In and out amongst the people she passed, turning 
often to Marcel to bid him see that some small com- 
fort was fetched for one who was old or otherwise 
ill fitted to bear hardships, until Marcel, whose 
memory was no longer of the best, and who had 
checked off each matter on his fingers, had ex- 
hausted both hands and even used every key on 
the big bunch at his girdle before her benefactions 
were done. When she entered the court of the 
castle, she left behind her much comfort and some 
cheer, and brought away a heavy spirit, which kept 
her uneasily pacing the great hall throughout the 
long morning. 

This hall was of enormous size, having a lofty 
arched roof supported by two rows of stone pillars. 
It was lighted by narrow embrasured windows, so 


The Sign of Triumph 


135 


high that two steps sunk into the wall led up to 
them. The walls were covered with richly wrought 
tapestry, representing the pleasures of the chase. 
At one end of the room a great hooded fireplace 
yawned, its opening large enough to take the half 
of a fair-sized forest tree. At present its black and 
gaping throat was heaped high with green boughs, 
and the floors were strewn with fresh rushes and 
sweet-scented herbs. At the far end, opposite the 
fireplace, was a massive oak table surrounded by 
benches and stools of the same, and having at its 
head a tall carved chair canopied by hangings of 
perse-coloured cloth and sewn with powderings of 
silver fleur-de-lis. Each of the stone pillars held 
a shield blazoned with the arms of the allied houses 
of Dreux. 

As Alienor kept up her ceaseless walk that morn- 
ing, she paused before one shield and another, con- 
templating each, as if she sought inspiration and 
council of their dead owners. The two at the upper 
end of the hall held the arms of her own impover- 
ished house and those of the Dreux. Before these 
she stopped oftenest and stayed longest, gazing on 
the simple device of her own arms, — on a field 
argent, three larks in chief, — as if the shield’s face 
were not as familiar to her as her own. Somehow 
the blazonry held for her a spell to conjure up the 


136 The Sign of Triumph 


stern warrior face of her old father, so like in char- 
acter to grim Sir Tristan. She seemed to see his 
cold, keen eyes looking at her, and they held her 
with a strong command, as they had done so often 
in childhood. As the day wore on, she came to feel 
that the spirits of these two indomitable old men 
walked at her side and urged her on — to what ? 

She was standing before the arms of Dreux, 
softly repeating its vaunting motto, smiling sorrow- 
fully at the thought of how little any need beware 
of her who now upheld its honour, when Father 
Bernard entered the hall and came striding toward 
her, his cassock flapping, his rosary and crucifix 
clicking at his side with every step. He was a large 
man, of bony frame, and looked better suited to 
field than cloister. His tonsured head showed much 
gray amongst the dark locks, but his piercing eyes 
looked forth above his hawk-like nose with as youth- 
ful a flash as on the day when he was first frocked. 
He stopped before Alienor, and the briefest glance 
at his perturbed face told her that something was 
amiss. 

“ My lady,” he burst out, impetuously, “ God 
pardon me if I do the man a wrong, but I have 
grave fears that La Lange hath smelt the Duke of 
Burgundy’s gold, and that the Castle of Dreux will 
not be allowed to hold out until aid comes.” 


The Sign of Triumph 


137 


‘ What mean you, father ? Upon what dost thou 
base such grave accusation?” she asked, a little 
irritably, because he voiced the very fears that were 
tugging at her heart. 

“ Nay, I grant thee, I have no great things upon 
which to rest my fears, yet — lady — how came 
the Burgundians to know so soon of our plight, of 
the old lord’s going, of the lack of soldiery? Un- 
less I much mistake, the news flew forth from here.” 

“ Even so, it doth not make La Lange the traitor, 
father,” she objected, with justice. 

“ Truth is with thee there, my lady, but who is 
now dropping words of fear to this one and that, 
saying, with a shake of the head which forebodes 
disaster, that ’tis a poor outlook for us ’gainst such 
numbers, our force being so reduced, and to another 
that Rudolf of Steinbeck is a cruel conqueror if 
made to fight too long, and perchance ’twould be 
fairer to all did we surrender while we might make 
terms, rather than at the sword’s point. I over- 
heard him say such things to burly Jacques Duchie, 
whereupon the honest fellow rounded on him with 
a string of oaths, which were disgrace to me as chap- 
lain of the castle, yet so warmed my soul, despite 
their evil sound, that I stand ready to pronounce 
absolution and exact no penance on account of them. 
When he could leave swearing and come to Chris- 


138 The Sign of Triumph 


tian utterance again, he asked La Lange what ’twas 
he purposed, to turn traitor and strike our colours 
to the dirty Burgundian ? And he swore that, even 
if he were alone, he would hold the castle until he 
were cut to bits and thrown to the dogs, and for 
his part he saw no reason why, even with the small 
force at our command, we could not hold the place 
two weeks at smallest. But, though La Lange’s 
evil seed fell not on fallow ground this time, I fear 
others have given more heed, for never saw I the 
men of Dreux go thus, long-faced, into a fight.” 

“ Oh, father, father, I have feared this thing my- 
self, though I tried to push it from me. It has been 
a morn of horror to me. I know that each hour 
the Burgundians delay is an hour gained in which 
to fetch Nevers and our men, yet so burdened is 
my spirit, I have grown more afraid of their lurking 
slowness than if they were now fighting madly. It 
hath a look of calm surety which hath gotten on 
my courage, and makes me tingle with fearsome 
impatience. What do they now? Is there any 
stir among them ? ” 

“ They are setting in place a trebuchet, and throw- 
ing up a breastworks across the whole of our north- 
ern face,” answered the priest. 

“ ’Tis well, anything is welcome, save that deadly 
quiet which seems to speak certainty. As to thy 


The Sign of Triumph 


139 


suspicions of La Lange, what action shall I take in 
regard to him? Dare I remove him, and, if I do, 
will my men permit it? I know not how strong is 
his hold upon them. And if I remove him, who 
shall take his place? If I but had a man of deter- 
mination, a scion of the house of Dreux, to whom 
they are used to yield obedience, then would my 
way be clear, but now — ” she broke off abruptly, 
lost in thought. 

The priest shook his head. He saw the difficulties 
of the position without , having any suggestion to 
offer, and he saw more surely than she that, if some 
change were not made, disaster was inevitable. 

“ Have the man fetched, and talk with him. Per- 
chance thy power can raise another spirit within 
him,” he counselled at last. 

She seized a heavy stick which hung beside a wide 
metal disc on one of the pillars near by, and struck 
two heavy strokes. It returned a deep, booming 
note, which sung and hummed long after the page 
had answered her summons and departed to do her 
bidding. 

In a little time the boy returned, followed by La 
Lange, Pepin de Corvant, and several of the younger 
squires. Alienor seated herself in the canopied chair 
which Sir Tristan had occupied so many years, and 
the memory of his grim gaunt figure and stem face 


140 


The Sign of Triumph 


served to make her delicate beauty seem the more 
fragile, and she the more inadequate for the task 
to which she had set herself. But the look with 
which she met her retainers, the air with which she 
waved them to be seated, was not a whit less com- 
manding than that of the old baron himself. 

Father Bernard took up his position next to her 
on the right, the others drew back the oaken stools 
and sat on either side of the upper end of the long 
table. 

There was a moment of expectant silence before 
Alienor spoke, and in that time she read the face 
of La Lange, and saw in it an ill-concealed look of 
bravado. 

“ I have summoned thee, Nicolas La Lange, and 
thee also, sirs,” she included the others in a com- 
prehensive wave of her hand, “ to speak in regard 
to the defence of Dreux Castle. I would hear what 
hath been done, and just what is purposed to do, 
and how long in your opinion the castle can hold 
out against its besiegers ? ” 

La Lange answered quickly, with some impa- 
tience, as if he resented her right to question. “ A 
small watch hath been placed in every turret on 
the southeast and southwest fronts, the remainder 
of our force is massed on the north face, defending 
the walls, the barbican, and the bailey gates. A 


The Sign of Triumph 141 

few men hold the castle gate in readiness to have 
the draw up in a trice, should we be forced to re- 
treat to the inner court. I strongly advise the 
removal of the rabble of men and animals from the 
bailey to the castle court, as they will create con- 
fusion when the fighting begins. For the rest, my 
lady, we are men, and will quit us as such, but 
against a horde of well-armed soldiers what chance 
have we who are so few in number ? ” 

Alienor frowned deeply, and Father Bernard, 
leaning forward, spoke to her in whispers. 

“ Surely, with such strong defence as the good 
masonry of Dreux, even a handful of gallant men 
might hold the place ’gainst an army, for a short 
time at least, and only for a little time is there need 
to hold out, for already Leon Saint Yon is as far 
on his way as a fleet horse can bear him to bring 
back our own men and the Co.unt de Never s to the 
rescue,” she answered at last, not failing to note 
the look of surprise which flashed and died on the 
face of La Lange, succeeded by an angry sneer and 
an intentional lack of respect in answering : “ Tis 
light work for priests and women to sit at ease in 
a chamber, and plan that which is not possible of 
fulfilment, and which to attempt is to throw away 
brave lives,” he returned, boldly, “ and how know 
we that Saint Yon hath gone through the line which 


142 


The Sign of Triumph 


the Burgundians have drawn about us. Granting 
that he hath accomplished so much, where is De 
Nevers, and how long will it be before aid can reach 
us? ” 

At this Alienor sprang to her feet, with flashing 
eyes and heaving bosom, and struck her closed hand 
on the table with ringing force. In that instant 
she seemed less a woman than a gallant, angry boy. 

“ God’s mercy ! but what hath fallen on the men 
of Dreux? ” she questioned, in hot amazement. “ If 
they have on a sudden become such gentle dames, 
send them to me that my maids may teach them 
to stitch and weave and hold the distaff, for, if they 
can no longer fight, then must they do other tasks. 
Never saw I such temper in this castle since first 
I crossed its threshold. Tis high time that a scion 
of the house comes to hold control here, and this 
will be before the night is sped. Leon Saint Yon 
is safe, I know, for he went by the secret way, which 
brings him out far beyond the Burgundian lines and 
in a place of security. In his going he is messenger 
to a young cousin of my lord’s, a youth who hath 
but now attained knighthood, and is a gallant fellow 
for fighting. He will come to us by this same secret 
way, and take command of Dreux. Then we shall 
see if these Burgundian dogs have but to howl to 
throw down my castle walls ; ” as she finished speak- 


The Sign of Triumph 


143 


ing, she brought her clinched fist down on the table 
a second time. “ Go,” with a wide sweep of her 
arm she seemed to push them from her sight, “ thou 
shalt be summoned again when Sir Garin de Dreux 
is come. ’Til then, since the Burgundians show no 
fight, mayhap thou canst hold the castle.” 

La Lange sprang to his feet, the angry blood 
mantling his face. He had the intention of defying 
her openly, but, as his eyes met hers, full of intre- 
pidity and a something which cowed him in spite 
of his wish, he could no more have uttered the words 
on his tongue than if the grim figure of the old 
warrior, Sir Tristan, had been in her place. He 
turned, followed by the others, and clattered from 
her presence with shamed face and reddened cheek. 
Before they had fairly reached the door, the priest 
exclaimed, in a wondering tone: 

“ My lady, my lady — what is this — what do 
thy words mean ? ” 

She brought her firm hand down on the sleeve of 
his robe and held him closely. 

“ Wait, wait, father. Come to my chamber. I 
have much to say to thee.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

After the Crusaders passed Bourges, the living 
stream began to drop its foulness, as flowing water 
does after a time. Here the jugglers, merry-an- 
drews, and cutpurses, having well gleaned the field, 
turned aside either to the towns through which they 
passed, or retraced their steps toward Paris, from 
which they could bear no long separation. 

Some of the more easily discouraged of the chil- 
dren also fell away, and every day little bands, de- 
taching themselves from the great, onward moving 
body, drifted back toward home or the nearest town, 
carrying with them a sorrowful knowledge which 
seared their young souls, leaving them beggared in 
body and spirit. But the proportion of those who 
turned away was slight in comparison with those 
who pressed on, weary but eager, footsore and hun- 
gry, yet undaunted. 

Noel was still of the company when they reached 
Lyons, as he also was when they left, though he 
had repeatedly sworn to himself that beyond this 


144 


The Sign of Triumph 


145 


point he would not go. He had been equally sure 
that he would leave them at Bourges, but he had 
found a thousand excuses to take him to Lyons, 
and amongst that thousand he never once put the 
true one, his growing love for Raoul, his protecting 
pity toward the children who had come to cling to, 
obey, and look up to him as both law and refuge. 
It was not until leaving Lyons that he faced the 
real reason of his staying, and admitted openly to 
himself it was because of Raoul. 

After the affair of the cross, the boy had seemed 
shy of him for a time, as if he half-expected another 
unreasoning outburst, but his confidence returned 
slowly, and at length he seemed to have forgotten 
the incident, and approached Noel with the old fear- 
lessness which had so attracted him in the beginning. 

By daily association, Noel had grown to know 
every child in the Touraine Band, and not only to 
watch over them, but also over the half-distraught 
priest who was their nominal leader. Any small 
semblance of organization had long since disap- 
peared throughout the army, and the unruly spirits 
in every band asserted themselves, refusing obedi- 
ence and fomenting trouble, but amongst this one 
group disorder was not permitted, for Noel’s au- 
thority went unchallenged. It was woe to the hu- 
man wolves who tried to prey upon this flock, for 


146 The Sign of Triumph 

punishment followed with swiftness. Father Denys 
recognized dimly through his visions and esctasies 
something of what this big, quiet man was doing, 
and, if there came to his notice anything which 
seemed not quite right, he brought it to Noel as 
simply as did the children themselves. 

They crossed the Rhone at Lyons, following a 
road which took them from the river. Every day 
the way was growing harder, for they passed at 
times through uninhabited districts, where there 
were no charitably inclined folk to minister to their 
wants, and the season, being one of unusual dryness, 
even nature turned niggard, and wild fruits, berries, 
and roots were burned up, the land being barren 
even of water at times. The heat became daily 
more intense; the children grew lank and gaunt, 
the red roses of cheek and lip turning to palest hue. 
The shoes on their tiny feet were cut to shreds, and 
bare flesh learned the feel of sharp rock and sharper 
bramble. They did not sing now as at first, though 
from time to time the war-cry, “ Lord Jesus, give 
us back thy holy sepulchre/’ would sweep over the 
ranks, but it had become a cry of distress, a prayer 
for strength to hold out rather than the old tri- 
umphant challenge from a multitude who expected 
to conquer without a blow. More and more often 


i47 


The Sign of Triumph 

now came the pitiful questions: “Is that Jerusa- 
lem ?” or “Will we be there to-morrow ?” 

There were plenty who found their long-sought 
Jerusalem before this; lying down to rest for the 
night, and finding rest eternal, and their young 
bones, picked clean by the beasts of the forest and 
the birds of the air, marked the way of the army’s 
going from Bourges to Marseilles. 

Noel could never forget the consternation that 
spread amongst the children the first time that one 
of them did not wake in the morning. It was Raoul 
who made the discovery, and, although the boy had 
never looked on death before, the mystery of that 
quiet figure told its story to him, as it must have 
done to the first man who gazed upon it. He ran, 
white-faced, to Father Denys, crying out before he 
had fairly reached him, his voice vibrant with the 
fear which stirred him. 

“ Father, father, come to Alaise. I cannot waken 
her. I have called and called, and still she sleeps 
on, and her face hath such a white hue it frightens 
me to look on it.” 

Noel heard the cry, and hurried after the priest. 
Father Denys was first to reach the child’s body. 
He found her lying on her side, her thin hand 
clasped about the standard of her cross, which she 
had set in the earth, at her head. There had been a 


148 The Sign of Triumph 


heavy shower, and her wet clothing clung against 
her, revealing the pitiful thinness of her slight 
frame; her yellow curls were beaten into the earth, 
and soiled by the mud. There was no need for the 
priest to kneel and touch her as he did; he knew 
the truth at a glance. Gently he unclasped the stif- 
fened fingers from about the cross, and, taking it 
from its upright position, put it on the child’s breast, 
trying to fold the arm above it. At this instant 
Noel joined him. He was struck by the look of 
questioning wonder in the priest’s face as he raised 
it to his. 

“ I cannot tell why this thing should be,” he said, 
in a sadly puzzled tone. 

Raoul had followed Father Denys, and stood 
looking from one man to the other, as if he expected 
to find in their faces the reason of Alaise’s stillness. 
At last he clutched Noel’s arm with a frightened 
grip. 

“ Noel, Noel, what hath befallen her? what hath 
befallen her?” he questioned in terror. 

“ Peace, child,” said the priest, softly ; “ she hath 
but reached the Jerusalem to which she set out.” 

A strong shudder passed over the boy, and Noel, 
stooping to comfort him, found himself clutched 
and held fast by two clinging, terrified arms. 

“ Nay, nay, I do not wish to go to Jerusalem. 


149 


The Sign of Triumph 

I fear, I fear.” He buried his face against Noel’s 
shoulder, his body shaken with long, shuddering 
sobs. 

The man lifted him in his arms and carried him 
apart, but it was long before he could still the fright 
and quiet the sobs, or make Raoul understand that 
the priest’s words were but figurative, and did not 
mean that all in turn would come to lie stiff and 
quiet as Alaise when they reached Jerusalem. 

After this it was no unusual sight to see, in the 
morning, here and there dotted over the ground 
when the camp was astir, those small, stark forms 
who had trodden out the weary way of life and 
reached their journey’s end. So much, indeed, did 
this come to be the case, that any effort to bury the 
dead was abandoned, and those childish bones were 
left to mark the road for many a day after. 

From the hour in which this first death occurred, 
a pitiful mental condition grew up amongst the chil- 
dren. It was most evident at night, when, huddled 
more closely together, in spite of extreme weariness, 
they strove to keep wakeful and upright, lest if they 
slept they also might never wake again, and so be 
left behind when the army marched on in the morn- 
ing. 

But there is little use to dwell upon this time of 
increasing hardships, or to tell how these children 


150 The Sign of Triumph 

in years came to be aged in experience, learning 
meanness, sharpness, and weariness in the battle for 
life, with famine for a teacher. There were days 
in which they went empty, and others when they 
ate gladly — and fought to obtain it — wild mast 
and roots. All semblance of discipline having dis- 
appeared, the army became an ungovernable rabble, 
fighting for life, the stronger succeeding at the ex- 
pense of the weaker. Even to Stephen they no 
longer harkened, and, when he tried to preach to 
them, to rouse them with words of encouragement, 
they turned on him, as the children of Israel upon 
Moses, asking bitterly, “ Why hast thou brought 
us into this wilderness to perish? ” No longer did 
they give honour to the young Prophet, no longer 
did the peasant ride in state with mounted guard 
beside him, while the children of lord and baron 
tramped wearily. His horses had succumbed from 
lack of water, and his gay chariot, with its fine 
housings, had been left behind on the roadside. 
But, if all others lost faith, not so Stephen. Though 
grieved and wounded at the treatment of his follow- 
ers, he still held himself as one who knows his cause 
to be just and his vindication sure. He did not 
abate one jot of the grave dignity of bearing which 
had been his since the beginning of the Crusade, 
and during the time when he had been the idol of 


The Sign of Triumph 15 1 

an adoring multitude. He carried himself as one 
who deserves honour even if it is denied him. 

Once, in passing Noel, he paused, gazing fixedly 
at him for an instant with his wide, introspective 
brown eyes. He was scarcely better clad than on 
the day when the man had first encountered him 
at Chartres. His buskins were cut and worn, his 
gray robe ragged and soiled. He carried in his 
hand the slim reed cross, which he bore by day, 
and clutched even in sleep, as if to lose it were to 
lose his charter to lead. 

“ Sir, have I not seen thee before ? ” he asked, in 
puzzled tone. 

“Most like,” returned Noel ; “ I have been of 
this company many days.” 

“Nay, not here; I have seen thee otherwhere.” 
He seemed to ponder the question deeply, then, 
slowly, as if thought came with an effort, “ At Char- 
tres — at the gate — and after — at the church — 
thou didst lift me — ’twas on the day of the Black 
Crosses. Say I not rightly?” he raised his head 
in quick question. 

“ Ay, thou hast it rightly,” Noel answered, re- 
luctantly. 

“ Much hath befallen since then,” he said, with 
an assumption of age which divided the man betwixt 
pity and laughter. “I am now enabled to make 


152 


The Sign of Triumph 


return to thee for thy double kindness. I will give 
thee my blessing,” and, saying this, he raised his 
two fingers, and, uttering a solemn benediction, 
passed on his way, as if he had not only paid his 
debt in full, but overpaid it. 

In the beginning of August things were at their 
worst for the little pilgrims. There had been almost 
no food for two days, and the night was closing in 
with no better promise for the morrow. The chil- 
dren, faint and sick from hunger, were sobbing piti- 
fully, where they had strength left for anything. 
Noel, well-nigh distracted by the sight of suffering 
which he was unable to relieve, had crept miserably 
away, and found a spot where some dry and stunted 
grass yielded a scant meal for poor Nicol. He was 
watching the horse with a sense of gratitude at the 
thought that it at least need not go hungry. Several 
days earlier he had made another attempt to aban- 
don it beside a small stream, foreseeing that the 
animal must soon perish from lack of water, but 
again the faithful creature had refused to be left. 
The children still took turns at riding, and many a 
weary mile had Nicol’s hobbling gait saved their 
sore and tired feet. For this they gave him grate- 
ful love, and, when they found a tussock of grass, 
they brought it to him. Sometimes in the morning, 
before fatigue rendered them indifferent to every- 


The Sign of Triumph 


153 


thing except weary bodies, they would gather vines 
and wreathe his neck with them. These attentions 
he bore meekly, and, if the vines were edible, nib- 
bled his decorations gratefully. 

While Noel lay watching him browse contentedly, 
he was startled by the sudden appearance of Father 
Denys. He noticed for the first time that the priest 
wore a pinched and hunger-stricken look as well as 
the children, but that his eyes were more sane than 
he had ever seen them. 

“ Why dost thou let the children perish for want 
of food when the flesh of thy beast would give them 
life? he demanded, sternly, pointing to the horse. 

Noel sat up with a jerk. Kill Nicol? The thought 
had never even suggested itself before, and it struck 
him now with sickening force. 

“ He must of necessity die soon, for, with the lack 
of water, he can scarce hold out many days longer. 
Kill him now, and save some of these children who 
otherwise must perish.” So saying, the priest 
turned abruptly and left him. 

Noel got up heavily and went toward the horse. 
The priest’s words had been a shock to him, almost 
as much so as if he had suggested that he kill one 
of the children for the benefit of the others. Nicol 
seemed a faithful friend rather than a beast of bur- 
den. Yet the idea carried conviction with it, and, 


154 The Sign of Triumph 

before the priest had finished speaking, he knew that 
he must do it. 

Nicol turned to give a little whinny of greeting 
as he came up, and Noel, dropping his arm over the 
beast’s neck, stood dejectedly beside him. He saw 
how lank were his sides, every rib revealing itself 
as plainly as if the hide had been stripped away. 
He knew that Father Denys was right, that in a 
few days at most the animal must perish of thirst, 
and his dying now meant life for Raoul, — for the 
others, who looked at him with hollow, hunger- 
•stricken eyes. But to kill — it seemed an act for 
which he had not the strength. “ Nicol, Nicol,” 
he cried, dropping his head against the horse’s neck 
with something like a sob, “ I am but as all others 
in this evil world. I give to thee, only that I may 
get from thee again.” 

The horse moved uneasily, as if he felt his mas- 
ter’s distress. 

Noel waited until he had cropped the last bit of 
his scanty supper, then he led him away, — into 
the woods, — for the deed which he was about to 
do seemed to him so treacherous that it should be 
concealed from the eyes of men. 

When he came out later, he was alone; his cloth- 
ing was stained with splashes of blood, his set face 
was pale. He carried in his arms fresh meat, which, 


The Sign of Triumph 


155 


to the eyes of the children, was food sent from 
heaven. Fires were built, and the meat cooked, — 
though some were so ravenous that they ate it raw, 
— and, when the smell of it floated out on the air, 
the crowd gathered like vultures. 

Noel felt some comfort in seeing a little colour 
come back to Raoul’s face after he had eaten, but, 
when the child innocently offered him a bit of the 
meat, he fled as if he were pursued by evil spirits. 
He spent that night face down to the earth, trying 
to shut out the look of reproach which his over- 
wrought fancy had pictured in the dying eyes of 
Nicol. 

That was the culmination of their troubles, for 
the next day the way grew a little better, and, when 
they reached Provence, that wonderful land of lux- 
uriance, there was no more lack of food and water, 
and only fatigue and discouragement remained to 
be borne. 

Then came a day when the last hill was climbed, 
and those in the van, looking down, saw the deep 
blue waters of the Mediterranean stretch before 
them, crisp and cool under the burning sun, with 
here and there its bosom dotted by verdant islands, 
like green gems in a brilliant setting, and, upon the 


156 The Sign of Triumph 

curving shore, Marseilles, its ramparts and turrets 
quivering in the heat of an August morning. 

Ah, but the shout of triumph that went up to 
heaven from those dust-parched throats at that 
sight so ardently longed for, so often despaired of. 
Weariness fell away like a worn-out garment, un- 
faith hid its head in shame. Stephen was once more 
their loved and honoured Prophet, and the Lord of 
Hosts their guide. There lay the sea, — the sea, — 
and to-morrow it would open a way for their feet 
to pass dry shod through its deeps. 

Then began a race for the city gates ; those who 
in the morning had been scarcely able to drag one 
weary foot after the other were now so filled with 
joy that they could not march sedately as became 
Crusaders, but must needs run as little children. 

Some far outstripped the others, and, when these 
fleet-footed ones came to stand before the gate of 
the city, and demand entrance for the army which 
followed, they only asked of the syndics leave to stay 
one night within their walls, “ for to-morrow/’ they 
said to the astonished citizens, “ we cross the sea 
to Jerusalem to free the Sepulchre of the Lord 
Jesus.” 

When the main body of the children came up, 
it was to find a vast concourse of astonished people 
— not knowing whether to scoff or to worship — 


The Sign of Triumph 


157 


waiting on the walls of the town to see these Cru- 
saders who bore themselves as if the future held 
now no doubtful issue. Nineteen years earlier many 
of these same folk had watched another army of 
Crusaders, an army which contained the flower of 
England, under the leadership of Cceur de Lion. 
Locked up in steel, and armed at every point, these 
men had gone forth to defeat and death, — and for 
these innocents, — what ? 


CHAPTER XII. 


That night saw a strange sight in the city of 
Marseilles. Fully twenty thousand children swarmed 
its streets, sleeping in doorways, in gutters, often- 
times so blocking the narrow ways that the early 
merchant with his laden donkey had to pick his 
steps with caution, lest he tread on the heavy sleep- 
ers who did not stir at his coming. The children 
of the better class found lodgings with the citizens, 
sleeping for the first time in many days under shelter. 
Stephen was made welcome at the monastery, 
where the brothers sat far into the night, listening 
in astonishment and incredulity to the lad’s tale 
of his vision, his preaching, and his wanderings. 

Noel saw Raoul safely housed in the care of a 
kind and motherly dame, whose heart had been 
easily wrought upon by the bey’s beauty and his 
worn face; for, despite the care and all that 
had been done to lighten the way for him, Raoul 
had come to have a tall, lank look that smote 
158 


The Sign of Triumph 


159 


Noel painfully when he recalled the rounded out- 
line that had been his when he first saw the boy. 

After seeing his charge properly disposed, Noel 
turned to an inn, where he promised himself good 
food and such refreshing sleep as he had not known 
for many a long night. In this last he reckoned 
without his host, for though sleep stalked near his 
pillow and coquetted with him through the long 
night, it refused to become his bedfellow. Do what 
he would, he could not shut out the thought of the 
morrow, and what it held for those faith-crazed 
children — and Raoul. Wherever his thoughts be- 
gan, they were sure to end here. What would 
come to them when the sea rolled on as it would, 
heedless of the waiting multitude upon its shore? 
Yet might it indeed be true that such a miracle could 
come to pass? Sometimes this thought crept in, in 
spite of reason. Priests said that once before in 
other days and other lands it had so happened, and 
that it was to come again to confound the world 
and teach a new faith. Noel did not really give 
credence to this view, but it would rise up to con- 
front him, and, when it did, it was quickly followed 
by the question, “ And then — ? ” Should he leave 
Raoul to go forward alone into he knew not what 
danger? It was this thought that kept him tossing 
restlessly through the night. Go with him? nay, 


i6o 


The Sign of Triumph 


he would not. What was the child to him that he 
should put aside all and follow into paths not of 
his own choosing. Leave him? A sharp contrac- 
tion of the heart was the only answer to this, yet 
it seemed stronger than all his reasoning. 

Toward morning he fell into a light doze, and 
when he wakened the town was astir, and the hum 
of children’s high-pitched voices shrilled on the 
morning air. They swarmed in the streets, over- 
ran the newly opened shops, ate the food which 
generous citizens brought to them, sitting in the 
doorways, underfoot in the streets, or in any little 
spot of shade, and all the while they talked in 
joyous excitement of the wonderful passage through 
the sea, which was to begin that day. 

It was early in the morning when the bell of 
the cathedral began to summon them to high mass, 
which was to be celebrated before they began their 
march. Even before its call rang out, the more 
eager of the young Crusaders were crowding the 
church so that it offered not so much as kneeling 
room for another person, and outside on the square, 
and in the streets, the crowd grew and grew, jostling 
and pushing, laughing and boasting, now catching 
up their war-cry, and giving it with its old-time 
ring and vigour, now joining in tuneful chorus 
when some one started a favourite hymn. For- 


The Sign of Triumph 


161 


gotten now were all the hardships of the way, for- 
gotten, too, were those left by the wayside, danger 
was past, victory won, the goal almost within touch. 
What mattered lank bodies and tattered raiment, or 
lost companions, to these high-hearted victors. 

Noel sought Raoul at the lodging where he had 
placed him the night before, to- find that the child 
had already gone to the cathedral. Turning his 
steps in this direction, he took his stand outside 
to wait the end of the service. Some five minutes 
later he saw the head of the procession issue from 
the great dark doorway; first the crimson-clothed 
acolytes, swinging high and low their brazen cen- 
sers, which sent out a pungent aromatic cloud to 
mingle with the fresh sweetness of the morning air ; 
following these were the priests in full canonicals, 
and, after them, beneath a canopy of rich cloth of 
gold, borne up by four of the lads who in the be- 
ginning had ridden as Stephen’s guard of honour, 
walked the little peasant Prophet himself, arrayed 
in a fresh robe of gray, the faded cross on his 
shoulder replaced by a new one, which burned like 
a touch of flame on its dull background. In his 
hand he carried the reed cross, and in his deep eyes 
and on his sombre face was a look of holy joy. 
After him thronged his followers, falling into line 
as the procession moved on. The street as far as 


1 62 The Sign of Triumph 

one could see it bristled with crosses and oriflammes, 
as the way of an outgoing army bristles with lance, 
and pike, and pennon. And all along the line of 
march the wondering people stood in doorways and 
leaned from windows, necks craned to gaze on this 
marvellous sight. The ramparts were black with 
humanity, for this was a spot of vantage from which 
to view their passing to the sea. 

On moved the ever lengthening column, and, as 
they went, twenty thousand piping voices sang : 

“ Fairest Lord Jesus, 

Ruler of all nature, 

Thou of Mary and of God the Son ; 

Thee will I cherish, 

Thee will I honour, 

Thee my soul’s glory, joy, and crown.” 

They passed under the grim old gateway and 
turned toward the sea, the acolytes still sending 
aloft from the censers breeze-borne pennons of 
smoke. When the head of the column came near 
the shore, it paused, and, priests and acolytes sep- 
arating, Stephen passed forward and took his stand 
a little in advance of the others. This was the 
moment of which he had dreamed for many a weary 
month, and a look of expectant triumph lighted his 
face. The children, breaking from their orderly 
procession, now ran forward until all the curving 


The Sign of Triumph 163 

shore was a mass of moving beings. As Stephen 
stepped out alone, a breathless stillness fell over the 
crowd. He raised his cross with a commanding 
gesture, his slim brown fingers clasping it tightly, 
the loose sleeve falling from his bare arm revealing 
fully its pitiful meagreness. 

“ In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, 
I bid you roll back, and make a way for the going 
of the army of the Lord.’ , His voice rang with 
the shrill clearness of a bugle-call. 

Not a sound broke the stillness except the soft 
lap, lap of the water against a rock, which rose 
on the blue surface not far from the shore, and the 
gentle swish of the waves which ran to' his feet 
and receded quickly. 

Who can ever measure what those slow-moving 
minutes were to that waiting host, which seemed to 
hold its breath until it was a pain, then let it escape 
in a soft, inheld stream as if fearing to stay the 
sea from its going by even so slight a thing. The 
dazzling sun on the water half-blinded them, as 
they watched wave after wave rear itself into life, 
age swiftly, put on its curling beard of white, and, 
beating out its brief existence on the sand, return 
forgotten to the source from which it sprung, seem- 
ing to mock them as it spent itself, to say, “ As 


164 The Sign of Triumph 

my life, so is yours, brief in duration, as soon for- 
gotten when ended.” 

It seemed an endless time that the boy stood with 
cross upheld — waiting. At length he turned his 
fixed gaze from the water, looking from right to 
left, as a half-awakened sleeper does who scarcely 
yet knows his whereabouts. The crowd moved un- 
easily, and the silence was broken by a murmur 
which gathered and gathered, holding within its 
sound both anger and grief. 

At this instant Raoul, who had been standing well 
to the front, sprung toward Stephen with an im- 
pulsive movement, and, grasping his hand, cried, 
entreatingly, as if he strove to ward away the fear 
that pressed upon them : 

“ Nay, nay, Stephen, it cannot be. Go nearer — 
into the water. Perchance the cross must even touch 
it ere it learn to obey.” 

Again silence fell, and Stephen, smiling hopefully, 
walked forward until the wash of an incoming wave 
broke against his feet. Farther and farther out 
he went until he stood waist-deep in the blue flood, 
then, once more repeating his words of command, 
he lowered the cross until its whole length touched 
the water, and seemed to float on it. Yet it gave 
no heed, and far out a great swell gathered, and 
gathered, moving slowly shoreward. Gently it lifted 


The Sign of Triumph 165 

the young Prophet and, bearing him resistlessly 
inshore, threw him there — rejected. The force of 
the water had tom the cross from his grasp, and 
broken the dried withe with which it was bound, 
and the receding wave left the two reeds tossed 
scornfully at Stephen’s feet. 

He stood, shaking as with an ague, the water 
dripping from his garments, his face ghastly white, 
his sombre eyes riveted on the two reeds of the 
broken cross as if they could never tear themselves 
away. 

A babel of cries and curses began amongst the 
children. Some flung themselves on the earth, un- 
mindful of the surge of trampling feet, others lifted 
their hands to heaven and cursed a God who could 
so trick them, and others yet cried in wrath that it 
was Stephen who had deceived them. These strug- 
gled to get at the stricken boy, that they might do 
him bodily harm. There were others — but they 
were few — who neither raged nor wept, but, being 
more staunch, held fast to their ebbing faith and 
cried out against the fury of unbelief which had 
fallen so suddenly upon the army. They bade them 
pause and consider that no day had been named 
for this miracle, and that to-morrow they might 
wake to find the waters subsided. But there were 
few who listened or heeded ; the most cried in grief, 


1 66 The Sign of Triumph 

or cursed in wrath, according to the nature of each. 
Held back from hurting Stephen, they flung taunt- 
ing words at him, which fell on ears as deaf as 
if death had already sealed them, for the boy had 
not moved nor taken his eyes from his broken cross. 

It was some time before the crowd had vented its 
first emotion ; then the children began to turn back 
toward the city, casting away their crosses and ori- 
flammes as they went. Drawing near the gates, 
they were met by jeers and taunts from the people 
on the walls, who threw missiles at them, and tried 
to keep them from entering, treating them as un- 
masked impostors. Those who had given quickest 
credence to the claims of the young Prophet were 
now loudest in taunting, hoping by this means to 
trick their neighbours to think that they, at least, 
had been too wise to believe this fable. 

When at length Stephen approached, the cries 
and insults redoubled, Raoul, walking beside, half- 
supporting him, was carrying in his hand the two 
pieces of the broken cross which he had taken up 
from the shore. The little band of faithful ones 
were gathered about him, trying to arouse him from 
the lethargy into which he had fallen. When they 
drew near, some one on the rampart let fly a clod 
of earth, striking Stephen on the side of the head. 
The boy staggered, though the blow was not a heavy 


The Sign of Triumph 


167 


one. Raoul, stepping swiftly before, strove to guard 
him from the shower of missiles which were now 
coming thick and fast. 

“ Shame, shame ! ” cried the boy, in ringing tones, 
which would not be drowned. “ Shame, ye un- 
mannerly knaves, to so serve one who hath never 
done thee harm. Thou art neither Christian nor 
gentle to act thus.” 

A wave of laughter swept over the people, and 
broke in derisive epithets. 

At this instant Noel came hurrying through the 
gateway. He had not followed the children to the 
sea, but had remained in the almost deserted town, 
waiting for — he knew not what. At the sound 
of the shouting on the walls he started up in a 
quiver. Had the impossible come to pass, had the 
waters rolled back? He stepped quickly into the 
street : the truth was easy to read in the face of 
the first child whom he encountered, and he started 
rapidly toward the city gate. As he passed under 
the arch he spied Raoul and heard his gallant de- 
fiance to the crowd. 

At sight of his friend, the boy forgot his self- 
imposed task for a minute, and, forsaking Stephen, 
ran to Noel, as to a sure refuge. “ Noel, Noel,” 
was all that he said, catching the man’s hand and 
holding it against his breast, his questioning face 


1 68 The Sign of Triumph 

showing that he trusted him to make clear the fail- 
ure of that day’s hopes. Noel turned his eyes away. 
He could not bear the wondering pain of the child’s 
glance. 

At this moment a flying clod struck Raoul’s cheek, 
and instantly the man’s sword leaped from its scab- 
bard. 

“Shame, shame!” he cried, angrily. “If thou 
wilt not learn mannerliness from a child, thou canst 
come and take the lesson from a man. Come down, 
my brave warriors who have no fear at fighting 
children, come taste my steel and see if the flavour 
is to thy liking. If any has quarrel with either of 
these lads, let him meet me. I’ll answer for fault 
of theirs with my sword arm.” 

But no one moved, nor did the people heed ex- 
cept to send another shower of missiles. Noel, real- 
izing the utter futility of attempting to stay the 
rabble, gathered Stephen, who seemed scarcely able 
to walk, into his arms, and began a swift retreat 
toward shelter. But where to go was a question. 
The inn was at some distance, and the people on 
the way were no more friendly disposed than those 
on the wall. The rabble followed at his heels, tor- 
menting and harrying him until he was beginning 
to feel helpless, burdened as he was, when he saw 
at an open door the woman with whom Raoul had 


The Sign of Triumph 


169 


lodged the night before. She was standing in open- 
mouthed wonder at the hubbub, asking each passer-by 
what had befallen, but every one was too excited 
or too intent on other matters to give her any heed. 

“ Good mother, for the love of Christ, give us 
shelter. I fear the lad in my arms is dying,” pleaded 
Noel, pausing before her. 

“Nay, tell me first what thou hast done. I am 
a lone woman, and I have fear to let a stranger 
in my house whom all the town doth pursue,” she 
objected, cautiously. 

“ We have done naught, mother, I swear it. It 
is the little Prophet that I bear in my arms, and 
his only crime is that the water did not obey him,” 
returned Noel, in a tone which somehow carried 
conviction to her fears. 

“As if any save one turned simple would expect 
it,” cried the good woman, who had indeed been 
of the number who scoffed at such a thing. 

She flung wide her door, and Noel pushed in, 
quickly followed by Raoul, the entrance being barred 
after them, lest some of the rabble attempt to fol- 
low. Bidding him come, she preceded him up the 
stairs into an upper chamber. Noel was about to 
put the boy, all dripping as he was, down on the 
silk coverlet of the bed, when Dame Soumaise flew 


170 The Sign of Triumph 

ahead of him and, spreading protecting arm, hov- 
ered threateningly before her property. 

“ St. Bridget forfend ! but the man would lay 
his dripping burden upon my finest silken coverlet. 
Stay, fellow, strip the child first and put him between 
sheets,” saying which she turned the covers back, 
disclosing the sheets of heavy holland, snowy fresh 
and herb-scented. 

Noel set himself to the task of undressing the lad, 
while she bustled out, saying she would fetch a 
posset for him. 

When she returned with a cup of hot wine, Noel 
thought that Stephen had fainted, he lay so resist- 
less in his hands; but when the wine was held to 
his lips he opened his eyes and drank obediently, 
then lay back upon the pillow without moving or 
speaking, until the stimulant painted red spots in 
his cheeks, giving him once more the look of life. 
Then he began to mutter softly to himself, his eyes 
wide open and staring, “ O Jesu, Son of Mary, 
how couldst Thou trick me so ? ” 


CHAPTER XIII. 


The many brews and possets which Dame Sou- 
maise poured down Stephen’s throat brought the 
boy ease of body if not of mind, and as the night 
wore on he ceased to toss and mutter, sleeping at 
last as soundly as Raoul, who had long since given 
over grieving, and forgotten the day’s disappoint- 
ments in sound slumber. 

Noel did not even make the effort toward sleep, 
but, sitting on a stool beside the casement, thought 
and planned, much as he had done the night before, 
except that now no creeping doubt came up to face 
him whenever he tried to look into the future. The 
trial had come and gone, and the waters rolled on 
unheeding, as he knew that they must except when 
a superstitious whisper brought an instant’s doubt. 

This night seemed to him a turning-point in his 
life. In those hours of silent communing, he not 
only planned his future, but reviewed his past, in 
the light of his newly awakened regret blaming 
himself even more than was altogether just. He 


172 


The Sign of Triumph 


burned with shame at the recollection that one who 
had such a heritage of noble blood and noble deeds 
behind him should have let himself fall as he had 
done, until he was scarce better than a roistering 
tatterdemalion, who lives foully if gaily, taking little 
thought for soul or body, and slipping from life 
in the end like a thieving guest from an inn, with- 
out having paid the score for his entertainment. 
But what was done was done, and he realized that 
he could not drink the wine which he had spilled. 
The future was before him, and it was his; with 
this thought he turned resolutely toward it, and 
began to plan with a light heart for the morrow. 
His first step would be to procure a stout little ass, 
and, having furnished a pack-saddle with a good 
store of provisions, — which the beast could easily 
bear in addition to the slight weight of Raoul, — 
after a few days of rest, set out toward the boy's 
home. Not yet did he know the whereabouts of 
this or the child’s other name. In the beginning 
of their acquaintance Noel had questioned him of 
these things, but it was a subject upon which Raoul 
was reticent, and, seeing that he did not altogether 
trust him, Noel desisted, and the matter had never 
been mentioned between them again. Now that the 
Crusade had proved a failure, he did not doubt 
that the child would desire to turn home, and here 


The Sign of Triumph 


173 


began his own dream of a new future. He longed 
to stay beside the boy, and, when he had returned 
him to his people, he meant, if possible, to take serv- 
ice with them, and wait the time when by some 
act he could win knighthood for himself, and carve 
out new honours for the adorning of the name which 
he had soiled for so many years. 

The night passed at last, and the sun rose in 
cloudless glory. Taking this splendour as an au- 
gury, as even the least superstitious are apt to do 
at times, Noel dressed himself, walking softly lest 
he waken the soundly sleeping boys, and went out 
into the town. Oh, the delight of that morning to 
him who felt himself new-born, or as one who has 
slept long and dreamed evilly, and wakes at length 
to find darkness and bad dreams fled, and a new 
day stretching joyously before him. 

It was some time before he found just what he 
searched for, as every citizen of whom he made 
inquiry had to tell him of an ass surpassingly strong 
and wondrously cheap. He found the Provencal as 
keen at a bargain as a Jew, and if he had not kept 
his eyes open and his wits about him, they would 
quickly have sold him an ass of twenty years for 
the price which he should have paid for one not 
four years foaled. After much searching and bar- 
gaining he came upon a sturdy little animal to his 


174 The Sign of Triumph 

liking, and, paying down a coin to bind the bargain, 
he turned back to the house of Dame Soumaise, 
mindful for the first time that he had neither break- 
fasted that morning nor supped the night before. 
But when he reached the upper room where he had 
left them sleeping, both boys were gone, the woman 
knew not where. She had fed them at an early 
hour, she told him, — the sick one seeming much 
recovered, though still heavy-eyed, — and she had 
left them, after bidding them stay quiet, standing 
at the lattice gazing at a band of children in the 
street, who were already turning homeward; for 
the syndics of the city had issued a proclamation 
that the host of children could no longer stay within 
the walls of the town, lying in the streets and eating 
up the provisions like a swarm of locusts. 

Noel’s heart turned sick with alarm. Had Raoul 
deserted him and joined some of these outgoing 
children? But he dismissed this thought after an 
instant, for it was altogether unlikely that one of 
his character would be amongst the first to turn 
away. He did not stop to hear the end of the good 
dame’s voluble speech, after ascertaining that she 
knew no' more than he of their whereabouts, but set 
out at once to search the city. Up and down the 
narrow streets he went, hunting in every dark byway, 
joining every group of children, peering in the 


The Sign of Triumph 


I 7S 


churches, but to no avail. Then it came to him 
in a flash, and, turning, he almost ran toward the 
city gate, and out in the direction where yesterday 
they had awaited the miracle. All along the way 
beneath his feet were scattered the discarded crosses 
and oriflammes, and, as he looked at them, broken 
and soiled by the ruthless feet that had trampled 
them, his heart was moved within him, knowing 
that every one represented a bruised or broken faith 
which the years might never mend. 

When he drew near the shore he gave a sigh 
of relief ; his surmise was correct. Raoul was there, 
and came running to meet him with eyes bright 
and face alight with hope. 

“ Noel, Noel,” he called, before he had fairly 
reached him, “ the water is subsiding. We must 
needs wait a little, but God is making a path for 
us. We set a cross at the water’s edge but a little 
time ago, and now the incoming waves do not 
reach it by the length of my hand.” He was so 
full of excitement that he could hardly articulate. 

Noel turned his head away not to see the look of 
disappointment which he knew would follow his 
words. 

“ Nay, Raoul, thou art mistaken. That is not the 
drying up of the sea, but the outgoing of the tide. 
I myself have seen it run out on a sandy beach 


176 The Sign of Triumph 


a good half mile or more, but in a few hours it 
returns as lusty as ever. This water hath but a 
slight tide, but, if thou wilt keep faithful watch, 
thou wilt see that it is as I say, and it will come up 
to thy cross again after a few hours.” 

The child’s eyes welled up with tears which he 
bravely tried to hold back, and his sensitive chin 
quivered pitifully. “ Is it indeed so ? ” he asked, 
wistfully, yet not as one who doubts. He turned 
away then to tell the others, whereat some who were 
not so brave broke down and wept. In spite of this 
they would not be daunted, but sat watching the 
water and waiting. Noel drew Raoul aside and tried 
to coax him to return to the city, but he would 
not. Hope was not yet dead in his heart. At last 
the man lost patience and spoke sternly, telling of 
the preparations he had made and pressing the boy 
to lay aside his foolish thought and come with him. 
Then for the first and last time Noel saw him in 
a passion. Anger shook his slight figure as a leaf 
in a storm. 

“ Thou hast but slight opinion of me if thou 
couldst believe that I would turn away thus. Did 
God say that on this day, or on that, He would 
make a path for our going? How know we that 
He does not try us, and only those whose faith 
is firm will He deem fit to conquer the infidel host ; 


The Sign of Triumph 


l 77 


and shall one of my blood and lineage turn back at 
the first obstacle? ” Then, following quickly on his 
brave words, he leaned his head against Noel’s arm 
— the sorrowing child-heart in him getting the better 
of his brief manliness — and cried helplessly, “ Noel, 
Noel ! ” as if he begged the man to make things 
better — yet knew he could not. 

This was the beginning of two slow passing 
weeks, wherein the most faithful amongst the little 
pilgrims gathered daily by the shore to watch, each 
eve returning with slower tread and heavier hearts. 

Nothing that Noel could say would move Raoul 
to come away with him, for the child had the de- 
termination of thrice his years, and in the end the 
man settled himself to wait as patiently as he could 
for the time which he knew must come. Every day 
saw children departing in small bands, without 
crosses or hymns of triumph, and with faces wear- 
ing not only the look of privation and fatigue, but 
a sadder one of shame or reckless unbelief. Some 
turned homeward, travelling again the hard way 
over which they had lately come, leaving their 
bodies beside the clean-picked bones of their com- 
rades who had fallen earlier; others found their 
way to the nearest cities, becoming absorbed in time 
into the lowest population, the girls ending on the 
streets, and the boys becoming thieves, panders, and 


178 The Sign of Triumph 


God knows what. One large company, in whom 
hope still lived, made their way to Rome to beg 
the Pope of his mercy to provide ships to carry them 
to Jerusalem. But the Holy Father turned deaf 
ears to this appeal, bidding the children return to 
their homes and submit themselves to their parents 
until they were of age for Crusading. “ For,” said 
he, “ having taken the cross, you must fulfil your 
vow ; I do not absolve you from that.” 

While Noel’s spirit chafed against the delay im- 
posed upon him, he was learning to know the 
strength of the bond that united him to the child. 
There had been times at first when his own will rose 
in rebellion, and he said that if Raoul would not 
go he would set out alone, but he always placed 
the time of this departure for to-morrow, and to- 
morrow never came. 

Two weeks had nearly passed, and Noel saw that 
his hour was not far distant. He began again his 
interrupted preparations ; then, one day, he returned 
to the house of Dame Soumaise to find Raoul and 
Stephen, not at the sea, as usual, but waiting his 
coming with ill-concealed impatience. Both faces 
were alight with joy, new life seeming suddenly to 
have entered their veins. So eager were they to 
tell their news, that they both talked at once and 
tangled up the tale until he could make nothing 


The Sign of Triumph 


179 


of it. When at last he had patiently unravelled the 
jumble, he learned that two rich merchants of Mar- 
seilles had been so moved at the sight of the faith 
of the young Crusaders, that they had offered, for 
the love of God and without hope of reward, to 
furnish ships to carry the child warriors to their 
destination. 

“ Said we not that God would make a way for 
our going? ” cried Raoul, his face transfigured with 
triumph. 

“ Is this less a miracle than the dividing of the 
waters would have been ? ” questioned Stephen, his 
dejection falling from him like a garment, the dig- 
nity and swelling port of his earlier days returning. 
“ By the faith of the cross, I say that it is not. 
What other army save this, the Lord’s own, hath 
gone to the lands beyond the sea without pouring 
forth gold as the price of their going? The Lord 
leads us. still, and did but try our weak faith.” As 
the boy spoke he was busily engaged in binding 
together once more the two reeds of the cross which 
had lain unnoticed in a corner since Raoul dropped 
them there. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


The torches were lighted in the upper end of the 
great hall, illuminating its vast expanse dimly. Back 
of Sir Tristan’s chair they flared uncertainly, the 
flame blown by the breeze from the open casement. 
La Lange, De Corvant, and the others had been 
summoned a second time, not to find my lady wait- 
ing them in the big canopied chair, but a slight 
youth in full armour, his shield resting beside him, 
bearing the cross patee of the house of Dreux. The 
ventail of his helmet was open, but the flickering 
light behind him revealed his features dimly. Little 
more could be seen than that his skin was dark 
brown in hue, as if wind and sun had played freely 
upon it. Each of the incoming men flashed a look 
over him, summing him up in a glance. 

“ A mere stripling,” thought De Corvant, “ full 
half a head shorter than my lady herself.” 

“ Does she think to set a beardless boy above us? ” 
was the question which La Lange put to himself. 

The youth greeted each comer with a courteous 

180 


The Sign of Triumph 


1 8 1 


word as Father Bernard called his name, and, when 
all were seated, still standing, he began to speak in 
the quick, decisive tone of one used to command, 
and having no doubt of self. 

La Lange, who had been eyeing him sourly with 
a cool contempt which he was at little pains to con- 
ceal, interrupted him shortly, his manner a chal- 
lenge. 

“ Thou hast no knowledge of the thing of which 
thou art speaking. I say, who know, when the Bur- 
gundians strike, our force is insufficient to defend. 
Nay, we cannot hold the walls for the time that it 
will take the sun to travel a quarter of the way 
around the dial.” 

The thing which followed came with the unex- 
pectedness of a flash of lightning out of a clear sky, 
bringing every man to his feet in amazement. 

“ Seize that man, he is a traitor. He it is who 
hath given information to the Duke of Burgundy of 
our defenceless plight at Dreux. He it is who hath 
brought this pack of Burgundian wolves yapping 
about our stronghold, and while he walks free Dreux 
is not safe. Seize him, I tell thee,” for not a man 
had stirred, but were looking at each other, and 
at La Lange, who was turning from red to white, 
and from white to red, blustering through it all like 
a March wind. Neither had any of the men-at-arms, 


182 


The Sign of Triumph 


— drawn up back of the young knight’s chair, — 
to whom this command was directed, moved. It 
was a breathless moment, and the fate of the castle 
hung for an instant on the turn of a hair. La Lange 
was an old comrade, well known if not well liked, 
this other a stranger of whose existence they had 
been unaware until to-day; he was a mere boy be- 
sides, not likely to have had any experience in battle 
or siege. Whom should they follow? 

It was not a question for their deciding, little 
as they knew it, for there are some characters who 
have the force to compel obedience. Sir Garin, 
standing face to face with the startled soldiery, real- 
ized their hesitation and its cause. His mouth was 
set and stern, and not a quiver of the face showed 
him afraid of the issue. A second time he spoke, 
bringing his mailed fist down on the board before 
him. 

“ By the splendour of God,- 1 will be master here, 
and he who first fails to obey, him shall I gibbet 
within the hour, though Dreux hath such need of 
arms to wield weapons. Better a dozen true men 
than a host of half-hearted traitors.” 

It was honest Jacques Duchie who broke the spell 
which seemed to have chained every man to his 
place. 

“ The stripling is right,” he growled beneath his 


The Sign of Triumph 


183 


breath. “ There can be but one master, and for me 
it shall be a Dreux as long as one lives to wear 
armour,” saying which, he stepped forward and 
bodily lifted the astonished La Lange over the bench 
on which he had been sitting. This was a signal 
for the men-at-arms, who came quickly to his aid, 
and in a trice, La Lange was being borne from the 
hall, the incipient rebellion forgotten in a suddenly 
conceived respect for the new commander. 

“ Take him to the castle keep, and thou,” indi- 
cating Duchie with his outstretched finger, “ do thou 
remain and guard him, and if I find him not when 
I call for him, thy head shall answer for his.” 

The man grinned comprehensively. “ Thou shalt 
find him, my lord, trust me for that, or Jacques 
Duchie will have gone on the long journey without 
his body, that I promise thee.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


* Nearly nine days later the remnant of the castle 
garrison was drawn up behind a retrenchment which 
extended from the bailey gate to the first tower west, 
waiting breathlessly for the crash of their falling 
walls and preparing to make a last gallant stand 
before retreating into* the castle court. It had been 
nine days of hard fighting and harder watching, for, 
the force being so limited, sleep had to be caught 
in breathless snatches, and this fact was doing more 
to reduce the castle than the mangonels that had 
played two days against its wall or the hardly re- 
pulsed assaults of the Burgundians. 

Scarcely an hour had passed after the events of 
the last chapter before an entirely new spirit seemed 
to animate Dreux. Sir Garin had gone from point 
to point of his defence, with here a word of cheer, 
and there a shrewd command, all with a bearing 
that denoted no slightest doubt of the issue before 
them. Like magic the wonted temper of the garri- 
son came back, and one great fellow voiced the 

184 


The Sign of Triumph 


185 


thought of many — Sir Garin had but a moment 
before passed, having made a change in the dis- 
position of his men, of which they were quick to 
see the advantage — when he burst out, with a 
sounding oath to give weight to his words : “ Tis 
but a stripling who holds command, a beardless 
youth, but by the cross of God, he hath the temper 
and wit of old Sir Tristan himself.” 

Though a much better spirit reigned without in 
the court, in the castle itself there was fear and 
sorrow, for Lady Alienor had suddenly fallen se- 
riously ill of anxiety and trouble. Only Pernell, 
Father Bernard, and the barber surgeon of Dreux 
were allowed to go into her chamber, and the first 
came and went, wearing a serious face and carrying 
tisanes and cordials, while the report had gone 
abroad from the barber surgeon that he had drawn 
a full cup of blood from the patient in hope to 
allay the fever. 

After a long night of anxiety and watching, the 
second day broke to discover the enemy moving up 
under shelter of pavise and mantelet to open fire. 
This had been the beginning of the first of three 
bloody assaults, which were beaten off with terrible 
loss to the enemy, and some, if far less, severe 
casualty to the besieged. The Burgundian dead lay 
piled along the edge of the moat, and its dull waters 


1 86 The Sign of Triumph 

showed streaks of sickening red brown from the 
bodies which had fallen in. It was easy to see 
by the conduct of the enemy that this repulse 
was entirely unexpected, and, if anything had been 
needed to strengthen the young commander’s posi- 
tion, this would have done so, for it deepened the 
suspicion of treachery in the mind of every one. 

After a time the enemy had gathered themselves 
together and made a second and a third assault, 
suffering almost as terribly in each of these, and 
leaving the victors so spent that it needed but the 
turn of a hair to make them the vanquished. 

Fortunately for Dreux, the Burgundians were too 
much discouraged for a fourth trial, and contented 
themselves with attempting to batter down the outer 
walls with mangonel and trebuchet. But the solid 
masonry withstood their attempt, and the besieged, 
trusting confidently to their massive walls, got a 
little rest, only keeping enough men in the outlooks 
to warn them of any change of tactics on the part 
of the enemy. 

After two days, in which the well-aimed missiles 
pounded on one spot in the wall and failed even to 
stir a stone, the Burgundians gave up this also, and 
set themselves to build a cat. When it was finished, 
although the soldiers on the walls did everything 
possible to keep the threatening monster from ad- 


The Sign of Triumph 


187 


vancing, it had crept on steadily, propelled by men 
whose places were filled as fast as they fell. An 
attempt to burn or destroy the cat proved equally 
fruitless, for green and bloody hides, well soaked in 
water, quenched the torches dropped from the hoard- 
ing above, and the timber which the Burgundians 
had used proved too strong for the stones which 
they rained upon it. 

Beneath this shelter they began to mine the foun- 
dations, and swifter and swifter sounded the blows 
as they worked like moles, burrowing in the dark- 
ness. 

It was long before Sir Garin would give up the 
struggle or realize the futility of further effort, and 
all the time the dull pick, pick, pick, sounding per- 
sistently from beneath the wall, warned them of their 
coming fate. When at last he descended, it was 
to begin preparations for the building of a barrier 
within the wall, so that when the Burgundians had 
made their breach they would yet find another ob- 
stacle to overcome before becoming masters of the 
bailey. Into the building of this defence he pressed 
the refugees, as well as such of the fighting men as 
he could spare. Even the more able-bodied of the 
women helped to fetch beams, stones, and earth. 

The morning of the ninth day came, and still no 
news of Leon Saint Yon, or the hoped-for reinforce- 


The Sign of Triumph 


188 


ments. The young knight, upon whom so heavy a 
responsibility rested, began to lose heart and hope. 
Alienor remained ill, and there was no one to cheer 
him with help or counsel except Father Bernard. 
But if his fears were great and his hope small, if 
he climbed more often to the highest turret to sur- 
vey the country for signs of coming friends, he let 
no intimation of his forebodings creep into his voice 
as he directed and commanded his now obedient 
men, and if his face was sober, his closed helmet 
kept it well hidden. 

Early in the morning the sound of the pick had 
given place to silence, and an acrid smoke began to 
creep up from under the wall, telling that the Bur- 
gundians had finished their task and were now 
burning away the props that held the gallery from 
falling in upon them. To those within the walls, 
waiting the crash in tense excitement, it seemed slow 
work. All the men had been withdrawn from the 
threatened wall, leaving only a few in the tower 
just east of the bailey gates, and those defending 
the gate leading into' the castle court. The re- 
mainder of the little fighting force were massed 
behind the barrier. 

At length came the expected crash, the sound of 
rending masonry, mingled with the shouts of the 
besiegers, and, scarcely allowing the cloud of smoke 


The Sign of Triumph 


189 


and dust to clear away, or the wall to settle in place, 
the Burgundians poured into the breach, flinging 
themselves against the barrier behind which the men 
of Dreux awaited them. 

This was the beginning of a deadly hand-to-hand 
struggle, as up the barrier the Burgundians fought 
their way, to be thrust back again and again by 
that resolute handful, who seemed for a time un- 
conquerable. Dead bodies rolled to the ground on 
both sides of the retrenchment, there to be trampled 
by friend and foe with equal carelessness. But fight 
as they might, the odds were too greatly against 
them, and they were giving back slowly, the enemy 
advancing victoriously, when Sir Garin, in a last 
endeavour to rally their flagging spirits, sprung to 
the top of the barrier, waving his sword and sound- 
ing the old familiar blood-stirring battle-cry : 
“ Dreux, se garde — Dreux, se garde ” Like the 
prick of a spur against the flank of a jaded steed, 
they responded, all weary and exhausted as they 
were, and caught up the cry, their dust-parched, 
smoke-dried throats giving it but feeble voice. 
Shouting the words which had ever borne them to 
victory, they rushed once more up the barrier, 
ready to lay down their lives in a hopeless en- 
deavour to beat back the enemy. “ Dreux, se garde 
— Dreux, se garde,” they chorused, and, like an 


190 The Sign of Triumph 

echo — except that an echo never swells above a 
sound that gives it birth — came an answer, in tones 
lusty, loud, and near, “ Dreux, se garde — Dreux, se 
garde ” 

The Burgundians heard it also, and realized its 
import. Like a herd of frightened cattle they fell 
back, and began streaming over the breach in an 
effort to gain the open, followed by their enemies, 
who pressed after, fatigue and exhaustion forgot- 
ten in the mad joy of finding themselves, in a breath, 
changed from vanquished into victors. 

Caught between the defenders of the castle and 
the relief-party of the Count de Nevers, the fleeing 
Burgundians were cut to pieces. Those who es- 
caped took to their heels, pursued by their relentless 
enemies. 

When the rage of battle was past, Sir Garin 
found himself at some distance from the castle with 
a number of his men-at-arms, who were in hot pur- 
suit of a party of fleeing Burgundians. Feeling that 
their victory had been complete enough, and fear- 
ing to let his men wander too' far, he called them off, 
and, turning, made his way back, limping painfully 
from a badly bruised foot. When he entered the 
bailey, it was to find many of his men-at-arms drop- 
ping where they stood, asleep almost before they 
touched earth. One had to look twice to distinguish 


The Sign of Triumph 


191 


those who were dead and those who were but dead 
in long-needed slumber. 

Picking his way carefully over dead and sleeping, 
he entered the castle court, to find two squires of 
the Count de Nevers waiting to bid him come at 
once to his lordship in the great hall. This he re- 
fused to do, pleading fatigue, a wish to refresh him- 
self, need of attention to his hurt foot, but the 
count's wishes did not brook delay, and he found 
himself, even as he protested, being led along toward 
the great hall. Entering, he stood before the suze- 
rain of Dreux, soiled, drenched from the heat, and 
spent from the fight. 

Thibaut, de Nevers, already unharnessed, was 
seated in the chair of state at the end of the board. 
About him were his own knights, and those of Dreux 
who had returned with him, and the cellar men of 
the castle were running hither and thither, fetching 
cup and flagon, wine, ale, and godale, to wash dusty 
throats and refresh weary frames. 

De Nevers was a bulky man, with a ruddy coun- 
tenance, which from heat and his late exertion had 
taken on an almost purple hue. His black hair was 
dishevelled, and his small black eyes seemed lost 
amidst the folds of encroaching flesh beneath them. 
He had his big nose buried deep in a wine-cup when 


192 The Sign of Triumph 

Sir Garin was half-led, half-pushed into his pres- 
ence. 

“ My lord, we have done your bidding and fetched 
the youth, though he came with reluctance,” said 
one of the squires, who had been most persistent. 

The count put down his empty cup on the board 
with such force it set every pot and flagon dancing. 

“ How now, sir, thou hast been fleet enough in 
pursuit of thine enemy, thou shouldst not be so 
leaden-footed in running to meet Dame Fortune 
when she hath a smile for thee.” He eyed the youth 
from head to foot as he spoke. Garin, ill at ease, 
stood first on one leg, then on the other, casting 
looks over his shoulder, as if he contemplated a swift 
rush, and escape. 

De Nevers finished his slow survey, and still the 
young knight had not answered. 

“ By St. Denys,” he exclaimed, “ the lad hath 
scarce the size of a well-grown wench. Nathless, 
thou art a brave fellow if thou art but a toy knight, 
and if all that hath been said is true, thou shalt have 
in reward for this day's work the fief of Dreux, 
and — if the Holy Father grant thee dispensation 
— thy cousin’s widow to wife. Here, Ormond,” to 
a squire near by, “ unharness the man. Take off 
his helmet, and let’s see what look he wears to 
match his slight frame.” 


The Sign of Triumph 


193 


But Garin, who had put out his hand to stay the 
fulfilment of this command, began protesting and 
begging leave of the count to first retire and refresh 
himself. 

“ Stuff, man, never put on the silly airs of a silken 
courtier ; thou art of better mettle than that, despite 
thy size. Beside the which, where gets a man better 
refreshment after fighting than from the wine-cup? 
What, ho, there, fetch a flagon of thy best for the 
young knight of Dreux, and thou, Ormond, unhar- 
ness him as I bade thee.” 

Seeing the uselessness of further protest, Garin 
allowed the squire to loosen the pin and open the 
ventail of his helmet, and lift it and the basnet from 
his head. Instead of the sturdy boyish face of the 
young knight, there was revealed the delicate beauty 
of a woman, her fair skin stained and darkened by 
dye, her brown hair, until now held up and concealed 
beneath the helmet, falling in loosened curls upon her 
shoulders. 

The count stared a moment, mouth agape, while 
a murmur of astonishment passed around the board, 
quickly swelling into a roar of recognition. Thibaut 
de Nevers brought his heavy fist down on the table 
with a sounding blow, and, recovering speech at 
length, shouted : 

“ Mort de ma vie l but ’tis my lady,” then broke 


i 9 4 


The Sign of Triumph 


into a roar of laughter which shook the rafters, and 
threatened to choke him. He was followed by the 
others, who shouted so lustily that the men-at-arms 
without came running to know the cause, crowding 
into the hall to gape as their betters were doing, 
and remaining to shout with joy and pride when 
the truth became known. 

And she? She stood shamefaced and miserable, 
the bright blood dyeing her face from chin to fore- 
head, looking for all the world like a child caught 
in mischief who does not know what may come of 
her pranks. 

De Nevers laughed on, choking and snorting, so 
that one of his squires was obliged to beat him on 
the back and pour a cool draught on his head to 
avoid serious consequences. When he had recovered 
a little, with the tears of mirth still streaming from 
his eyes, making little rivulets in the dust on his 
cheek, he turned to her, exclaiming : 

“ By my faith, thou art the finest wench I ere set 
eyes on, and I would there were no Countess de 
Nevers, for then thou shouldst be. Thou art a far 
fitter mate for Thibaut de Nevers than that white- 
faced puling dame who wears the name.” Lean- 
ing forward, he plucked her sword swiftly from 
its scabbard. “ Let’s see, thou mighty warrior, what 
soil thy sword wears. By the blood of a Nevers, I 


The Sign of Triumph 


195 


swear it shall never be wiped clean of these honour- 
able stains,” and, saying this, he held the weapon 
aloft where all could see its gleaming blade, as vir- 
gin as on the day it left the armorer’s forge. At 
this he broke into another roar, beating his fist upon 
his knee in excess of joy, murmuring between gasps, 
“ And I would have given him his cousin to wife.” 

While this was going on, Alienor’s anger had 
been gathering rapidly. Her straight, delicate brows 
were nearing each other in a manner that threatened 
storms, to any acquainted with her moods. When 
she saw her stainless sword held up before that 
roaring crew, and heard the burst of laughter which 
followed, she stamped her foot on the floor in a 
pretty rage, and exclaimed, with flashing eyes : 

“ I see no cause for mirth in that which I have 
done. Didst thou think I could soil my hands with 
blood? Didst thou think that my womanhood did 
not rebel against that which was thrust upon me? 
Shame on thee, Thibaut de Nevers, thou art but an 
unmannerly churl to so bait a woman.” And with 
this she swept from the hall like a whirlwind, leav- 
ing the count still choking with laughter, utterly 
unmoved by her wrath. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


Three days later Dreux Castle had returned to 
something of its wonted state. The folk from the 
village had gone sorrowfully back to their burned 
homes, the dead had been buried, and the masons 
were already at work repairing the brea-ch in the 
wall. Except for this, and the fact that some of 
De Nevers’s men were camped outside on the pla- 
teau, — the castle lacking space to accommodate such 
numbers, — there remained no evidence of the sore 
straits to which the place had been reduced but a 
few days previous. 

The first time that Lady Alienor appeared in the 
court, after donning her own attire, the men burst 
out shouting and cheering, and would have liked 
nothing better than to carry her in triumph on their 
shoulders, but her manner not only forbade this, 
but seemed to command them to forget that she 
was anything save Lady Alienor de Dreux, and, so 
great was her power, they obediently hushed their 
rejoicing. But even she could not prevent them 
196 


i 9 7 


The Sign of Triumph 

from following her with prideful looks, which spoke 
as plainly as shout and cheer of the regard in which 
they held her. 

But though Alienor had the power thus to check 
her own people, it did not extend to* the Count de 
Nevers, who, whenever he cast eyes upon her, fell 
to choking with his fat, joyous chuckle, which con- 
stantly threatened to bring him to an untimely end. 
Over and over he declared her fit mate for a Nevers, 
and when she frowned, and gave him a barbed re- 
tort, it was all the same, for he heeded neither her 
tempers nor her dignified disapproval. 

“ By the bones of Saint Denys, I am minded to 
sue the Holy Father at Rome to grant me a divorce- 
ment from my countess, so> that I may wed with 
thee, my lady, for never yet saw I woman so to 
my liking,” he declared. 

“ Mayhap ’twould be best to catch thy second bird 
before thrusting the first from thy nest.” This with 
a glance of scorn which would have angered a more 
sensitive man. 

“ And wouldst thou not gladly take me for thy 
lord ? ” he asked, his little eyes opening wide in 
spite of the folds of flesh which pushed them to- 
gether. 

“ Not if thou wert Philip Augustus himself,” she 
snapped, her eyes flashing at his insolence. 


198 The Sign of Triumph 

At which, not believing her, he shook with laugh- 
ter, his fat body heaving and rolling like an unquiet 
sea. 

“ Thou art the fairest woman and the greatest 
termagant that ever I knew, yet I do like thee the 
better for thy tempers. To one who hath been used 
to my lady countess, with her soft-voiced, puling 
ways, her ‘ Yes, Thibaut,’ and ‘ No, my lord/ to 
every word I say, even if ’tis that the devil hath 
not horns and hoofs, thy ways are like a fresh breeze, 
or like Eastern spice in the food which bites a little 
and tickles the palate for more.” 

But, little as he seemed to mind her tempers, he 
had put off telling her until his last evening at 
Dreux of his intended disposition of the fief. The 
nights had suddenly grown chill; outside the wind 
blew, booming in the chimney, and a cold September 
rain had set everybody shivering. A fire had been 
kindled in the great fireplace at the upper end of 
the hall, and, before this, but drawn well away, 
Alienor sat, her big boar hound lying so close that 
her foot rested on his massive head, which she 
stirred gently as she talked. The old fellow was 
not ill-pleased with this caressing, for he would 
open his great red eyes from time to time, and gaze 
at her with sleepy affection. Near her sat De 
Nevers, his drinking-cup still in hand, and Marcel 


i 9 9 


The Sign of Triumph 

not far behind his chair, ready to fill it so soon as 
it ran dry. On the other side of the fire were 
Leon Saint Yon and Father Bernard, over a game 
of tables, the priest laughing softly and rubbing 
his hands with pleasure over his unwonted victories, 
while several of the count’s gentlemen and those 
of the castle played the old, old game of love with the 
pretty damosels, who lived at Dreux under Lady 
Alienor’s care. 

De Never s had been silent for some little time, 
trying to screw himself to the point of speaking. 
Alienor sat with her hand upheld to guard her 
cheek from the heat of the blaze, her eyes fastened 
on the arms carved over the chimneypiece, wonder- 
ing with heavy heart if there was still hope that 
Raoul would return to bear them. De Nevers’s 
voice wakened her from her heavy thoughts. 

“ Since this is our last evening at Dreux, and 
I ride so early on the morrow, there is somewhat 
that I have to say to thee, and I like not the task, 
so I had best begin. Thou knowest that since thy 
son is no more,” — Alienor winced at his cold- 
blooded reference, but he did not see it, — “ Dreux 
is escheat, and since I may not bestow it upon Sir 
Garin de Dreux, as I had the wish, I am purposed 
to give it to a knight in my service, Arnold de 
Guynes — ” 


200 


The Sign of Triumph 


Alienor waited to hear no more. 

“ Oh, my lord, thou wilt not take Dreux from 
me until thou hast better certainty of Raoul’s death ? 
Thou hast said thyself that no man could have made 
better defence than I when we were beset by the 
Burgundians, and I swear that if thou wilt trust 
me, I will hold the place in safety, and yield it to 
thee after a reasonable time if my son is not re- 
covered. ’Tis but poor return for that which I 
have done, to rob my boy of his father’s heritage.” 
She was all woman now, with every instinct alive 
to fight for her child. 

He looked at her almost gently, and spoke softly 
for him. 

“ Thy son is dead, my lady, there can be no 
doubt; if not, where is he all these weeks?” 

She wrung her hands together as if she begged 
him not to turn the knife in the wound. 

“ Oh, I do not know, I do not know, my lord, 
only that he is yet alive,” she persisted. 

“ But if thou hast no knowledge of his where- 
abouts, how canst thou know him to be alive?” 
urged De Nevers. 

She hesitated, seeming confused, and when she 
spoke it was as if she were half-ashamed of her 
belief even while she uttered it. 

“ I know — I know, my lord, for that he ever 


201 


The Sign of Triumph 

comes to me in dreams. Night upon night I see 
him, always wandering, often weary, and he turns 
his great blue eyes upon me as if he begged me 
wait his coming. Oh, my lord, believe me, he will 
return, I know he will,” she broke out imploringly, 
as she saw a slight smile curl the count’s lip, and a 
little shake of his head make light of her poor 
reasoning. But he answered more gently than his 
blustering tongue was used to : 

“It cannot be, my lady; if Dreux were less 
important, less coveted, so much do I hold thee in 
admiration for thy manlike spirit, I would be moved 
to let it be even as thou desirest, and give thee the 
fief to hold as my vassal ; and I do believe that thou 
couldst keep the Burgundians in check as well as 
any man, but the knowledge that a woman rules 
at Dreux will invite constant attack, and I dare 
not risk so much. Nathless, I have not been un- 
mindful of thy interest, and this Arnold de Guynes, 
as thou shalt see, is a most proper man, and one who 
will be willing to wed thee in taking the fief, so thou 
wilt thus be well provided for.” 

The sense of his words had no sooner become 
clear to her than she sprung up with a low cry, 
that sounded both of anger and fear. Hearing it, 
the great boar hound was on his feet beside her 
in an instant, his lip curling back angrily over his 


202 


The Sign of Triumph 


big, threatening, yellow teeth, and a line of hair 
standing erect down his back like bristles on a 
brush. Leon Saint Yon paused in his game and 
waited, as alert and watchful as the hound, and 
there came a sudden lull in the conversation of the 
group near by. 

The count swept his eye over the little scene, and 
smiled. 

“ Even thy hound seems jealous, my lady, since 
he grows soi suddenly savage at mention of a hus- 
band for thee,” he said, significantly. 

She did not seem to heed his words. Letting her 
hand fall on the dog’s head, she quieted him with 
a touch. When she spoke, she did not lift her voice, 
yet each word seemed weighted with a grim deter- 
mination. 

“ Thou hast been greatly mistaken in such 
thought, Thibaut de Nevers. If thou wilt have it 
so, the fief of Dreux is escheat, and thou hast the 
right of its disposal; but the hand of Alienor de 
Dreux is not yours, nor any man’s, to give. Once 
I was disposed of as a chattel, without will or say 
of mine own, but never again shall this thing be.” 

“ Then, by the Virgin, there remains naught for 
thy stubborn spirit save the cloister,” returned the 
count, angered by her resistance. 

“ Nay, but I will none of that, either,” she an- 


The Sign of Triumph 203 

swered, defiantly, and her eyes met his with a chal- 
lenge. 

“ M or t de ma vie! what then remains for thee, 
thou stubborn baggage ? ” he shouted, now thor- 
oughly roused. 

“ That concerns thee not, but this I say, I will 
not be a prisoner, — prisoner to man in marriage, 
nor to God in the garb of the Church. Alienor de 
Dreux shall walk free, if homeless.” 

At this De Nevers raged in earnest. Thoroughly 
angered, he forgot everything except the pressing 
necessity to vent his ill-feeling. “ But thou art 
mistook in thinking thyself free. Dost thou forget 
that it lies in my power, as suzerain, to force thee 
to this marriage, if thou wilt or no? ” he spluttered, 
at last, between oaths. 

“ And how long think you, my lord, couldst thou 
hold me prisoner against my wish, when I keep 
a key to unlock my cell and go free?” she de- 
manded, fearlessly, not a whit afraid of all his 
storming. 

“ And where exists the key that could unlock 
the strong and determined hand of such a man as 
Arnold de Guynes ? ” 

“ This, my lord, which I carry ever near me,” 
she answered, and drew from her jewelled girdle 


204 


The Sign of Triumph 


a keen, needle-pointed dagger, whose bright blade 
caught the light and glistened evilly. 

As she held it toward him the determination of 
her look made her words no idle threat. It quieted 
his bluster immediately. He had risen to his feet 
and stood towering above her, and he caught the 
hand which held the dagger, closing his own about 
it. The dog stirred uneasily again, and uttered a 
low note of protest. 

“ I would to God I could tame thee,” he ex- 
claimed. 

“ Thou canst not, nor can any man,” she an- 
swered, with slow defiance. 

“ Perchance love might work the wonder,” he 
said, in a lower tone. 

Her steady eyes did not fall, and a little smile 
of disdain crept about her mouth. She shook her 
head slowly. “ Nor love,” she answered, with as- 
surance. 

“ Thou dost throw down the gauntlet to an enemy 
whose strength thou hast not yet tried,” he answered, 
a little sadly. Then, changing his mood, swiftly he 
continued : 

“ This much will I do for thee, and this only, 
and if thou dost show me any of thy shrewish 
temper, I will go back of my word. Thou shalt 


The Sign of Triumph 


205 


hold Dreux three months longer. If then thou hast 
recovered thy boy, the fief shall remain his ; if not, 
Arnold de Guynes becomes master here, and you 
his wife, or out you go, you rebellious baggage.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


After the disappointment which Raoul’s happy 
news had inflicted upon Noel, a great depression fell 
on him. He saw all his fair dreams scattered, and 
the future which he had planned for himself broken 
by the stroke of a boy’s hand. Plead as he might, 
Raoul was not to be moved in his determination to 
go. He grieved at the thought of parting from 
Noel, as much even as the man could desire, yet, 
when he tried to persuade him to remain, Raoul 
would stand, pale to the lips, with a look of heart- 
break in his big blue eyes, crying, “ Noel, Noel,” 
as if he begged him to cease torturing him so need- 
lessly. Times without number did the man tell 
himself that he would no longer follow on such a 
fool’s errand, and even while he said it, he knew, 
if the boy went, he must go also. He seemed tied 
to the child by a threefold cord not lightly to be 
broken : his love for him, his feeling that in desert- 
ing him he was giving his own boyhood over to 
the hard usage of the world a second time, and last, 

206 


The Sign of Triumph 


207 


but not least, a fleeting resemblance in the child’s 
eyes that constantly recalled the face of the woman 
whom he had seen at St. Denys. Sometimes he 
saw it in a lightning flash of anger, sometimes in 
the long-compelling gaze which the boy would fix 
on him whenever the thought of their parting was 
grieving his tender soul. Whenever his determina- 
tion to abandon Raoul was uppermost, Noel would 
see the face of this unknown woman rise before him 
with a look of condemnation in her eyes. “ What 
can I do ? What do you wish of me ? ” he would 
ask resentfully of this mental image, whose only 
answer was an unmoved expression of cold displeas- 
ure. 

But if the offer of Hugo Ferrus and William 
Porcus brought unrest to the soul of Noel, it was 
not so with the young Crusaders. Mad with joy, 
with shining eyes and hope-uplifted heads, they 
spent the most of their days at the waterside, watch- 
ing the fitting out and lading of the seven ships des- 
tined to bear them on their God-appointed way. 
Out of the twenty thousand that had reached Mar- 
seilles a few weeks earlier, there were about six 
thousand still faithful who would go on to Jeru- 
salem. 

The citizens as well as the Crusaders took great 
interest in these preparations. It was as if they 


208 


The Sign of Triumph 


felt themselves generous in this act of generosity 
on the part of their townsmen, and they were, be- 
sides, anxious to rid themselves of this large and 
useless addition to the population. 

It was the middle of September, and not yet had 
Noel yielded or said openly that he would go on 
with the army, though, within, the battle had been 
fought out, and he knew himself loser. After this, 
a certain reckless bitterness had grasped him again, 
and sent him back to his gaming and drinking. 

The night before the expedition was to start, he 
sought out a wine-shop not far from the waterside, 
and until a late hour sat at the tables, carousing as 
he had not done for many a day, drinking flagon 
after flagon of wine, and flinging the dice with the 
old wild love of the game beating through all his 
veins. He did not notice the entrance of a short, 
thick-set man of between twenty and twenty-five, 
whose deeply tanned and weather-worn face would 
have declared him a sailor if his rolling gait had not 
already made that announcement. He wore tight 
braies of leather and a short blue tunic of linsey- 
woolsey belted by a strip of leather, depending from 
which was a villainous-looking knife. His upper 
garment, loose at the throat, fell apart, disclosing 
a short bull neck browned by sun and wind until 
it had almost the appearance of tanned leather. He 


The Sign of Triumph 


209 


had scarcely seated himself before he began shout- 
ing to the host to serve him plentifully with godale, 
as he was minded to drink enough to float him 
through a long voyage. It was some time before 
Noel felt rather than saw that the man’s steady gaze 
was fixed on him. Turning resentfully, he caught 
the fellow eyeing him over the rim of his ale-pot, 
and drinking with sober intentness, as for duty 
rather than pleasure. As Noel faced full toward 
him, the man uttered an exclamation, and, dropping 
his ale-pot, heedless that its splattering contents 
baptized his neighbour, fell on Noel with great, 
swelling oaths, which laid him liable to the cat at 
least, if not a worse punishment. 

“ Now, by our Lady of the Sea, I knew myself 
right in this, for even mine ale-addled pate lets me 
not forget such a friend as thou. Worshipful Master 
Talbot, when earnest thou to this place, so far from 
the spot where last I saw thee ? ” 

It was not until he spoke that Noel recalled him 
as one Martin Double, who had begun his mean ex- 
istence as a river rat on the banks of the Seine at 
Paris. Here on a dark night, some six years earlier, 
Noel had found him, set upon by two rogues of his 
own sort, who seemed determined not to leave him 
a whole bone in his skin, if some one did not take 
a hand in his defence. Noel had done this, and, 


210 


The Sign of Triumph 


as soon as the assailants had seen his drawn sword, 
they had fled, being only armed with nature’s weap- 
ons. The lad was by this time a limp heap of 
bruised flesh, with a broken arm to make matters 
worse. Noel had seen him safely housed, and had 
a barber-surgeon to set his broken bone. These 
acts, together with a few coins, had so won the waif 
that Noel was forced to leave Paris to escape his 
dogging gratitude. 

The first joy of finding his benefactor past, Mar- 
tin was not slow to grasp his overturned ale-pot 
and shout lustily to have it refilled. Dragging a 
heavy stool near, he began, without invitation, an 
account of all that had befallen him in the last six 
years. 

“ Ay, master, ’tis a merry life which thou hast 
saved to me, and never can I forget thee or thine 
act ; ” he eyed Noel with admiring gaze. “ Thou 
art a more proper man than even thou wast then, 
and I dare swear ’t would go ill with any who' crossed 
swords with thee now.” 

Noel smiled cynically. “ Nay, Martin, I have my 
doubts. Since I have joined myself with priests, 
fools, and children, my sword arm is like to have 
forgotten its duties. What think you, man, of one 
of my kidney who goes hence to-morrow in com- 
pany with a host of defenceless children, who pur- 


21 I 


The Sign of Triumph 

pose to do that which mail-clad warriors have failed 
to accomplish? Do I not make myself the mock 
of gods and men ? ” He took a savage pleasure in 
thus holding himself up to derision. 

But Martin gave little heed to his fleer. His face 
whitened in spite of its brown, and his eyes opened 
in a look of staring horror. His hand fell heavily 
on Noel’s arm, gripping it so tightly that each finger 
bit into the flesh. “ Master, art thou indeed of these 
Crusaders ? ” his words came in a low gasp. 

“ Ay, that I am, Martin, and I little wonder at thy 
amazement.” 

At this the man looked about, as if he feared that 
his sudden change of manner had been noted, and, 
taking his hand from Noel’s arm, sat erect, but the 
colour did not come again into his face, and the 
hand which sought the ale-pot was a shaking one. 
When he had drained it to the bottom, he set it 
on the table, and, stooping as if to pick something 
from the rushes on the floor, he brushed near Noel, 
saying, in a tone fraught with seriousness : “ For 
the love of the Virgin, master, come apart with me.” 

His manner and speech stirred Noel to an uneasy 
sense of danger, making him at once alert and cau- 
tious. A little later, Martin paid his score, and 
rolled from the wine-shop with a gait more unsteady 
than his potations warranted. Noel waited some 


212 


The Sign of Triumph 


time before following, and, on his way out, paused 
behind two men at dice, absorbed in their play for 
a long time. 

When he passed into the night air, which seemed 
fresh after the closeness of the room, he looked up 
and down the street, fully assured that Martin would 
be waiting somewhere near. In an instant he saw 
a shadow dart out from the blackness of the over- 
hanging houses, and again felt Martin’s compelling 
grip on his arm. Only one word was uttered, 
“ Come,” but there was no resisting the force of his 
hand, and Noel made no attempt to- do so. They 
turned to the right, walking swiftly and silently. 
The night was dark, the hour late, and, as they 
passed along, compline rang* out from a near mon- 
astery. Noel pictured the sleepy monks turning out 
from their cells to answer this, the last call of the 
day to prayer. Then on the silence came the watch- 
man’s reassuring cry, “ All’s well,” and a little fur- 
ther on they encountered him, his swinging lantern 
affixed to the end of his staff. He flashed his light 
over the two pedestrians, and, satisfying himself 
that they were harmless citizens, passed them by. 
A few steps further, and Martin made a sharp turn, 
plunging into a narrow way between two buildings. 
Noel halted. “ Where art thou leading me, Martin 


The Sign of Triumph 


213 


Double ? ” he demanded, in a tone which betrayed 
his suspicion. 

“ Master, thou didst once give me life, as truly 
as my mother gave it to me in the hour of my birth. 
Art thou for thinking that I could play thee false? 
Come with me for the love of heaven, and have 
no fear.” 

Either the prick of the last word, which no man 
likes to hear from another, or a ring of truth in 
the voice, reassured Noel. He moved forward 
again. 

They stumbled on a short distance, the blackness 
becoming so deep that, when they paused, Noel 
could not make out even the faintest outline of what 
lay before them. His ear told him that Martin's 
hand was fumbling for the latch of the door, and 
he heard it give with a “ screak ” on its ill-oiled 
hinges; immediately after, he felt himself drawn 
forward. A short step down, over which he would 
have fallen had it not been for Martin's sustaining 
hand, then a second “ screak,” and the dull sound 
of a shutting door. 

“ Wait as thou art,” commanded the man, releas- 
ing his hold on Noel's arm, and moving away with 
the ease which custom gives even where darkness 
enfolds. Reaching the fireplace, he blew aside the 
ashes, and, kindling a splinter of wood at the coals, 


214 


The Sign of Triumph 


held it to a tiny wick which floated in a bowl of 
grease. After a spluttering protest, it ignited, re- 
vealing faintly the low-raftered ceiling, the bare 
stone floor, a rude table, and some heavy stools. 
The room reeked with the smell of garlic, and was 
so foully hot that Noel had almost to gasp to keep 
his lungs satisfied. 

At the instant when Martin finished his task, and, 
covering the precious fire again, bore his bowl of 
grease to the table, a fretting voice from the dim 
shadow of the corner queried : “ How now, master, 
art come to thy home at last ? ” and this was fol- 
lowed by a sudden ear-splitting wail from an infant. 
Noel’s eyes, which had become slightly accustomed 
to the gloom, saw a dark, dishevelled head thrust 
from behind the curtains of a wall bed. 

“ Go back to thy slumber, wench, and smother 
the cry of thy brat, for I have business to transact,” 
commanded Martin, in no uncertain tone. 

The head was promptly withdrawn, the babe’s 
cry was dulled, as if its mouth had been thrust 
beneath a thick cover, and the steady pat of a reas- 
suring hand and a soothing, prolonged “ Sh — sh 
— sh ” could be heard. 

Noel took the stool drawn up to the table for him 
by Martin, who seated himself as close as possible, 



The Sign of Triumph 


215 


and began to speak in a low tone, glancing about 
the dim-lit room, as if he feared lurking listeners. 

“ Master, that which I have to say to thee may 
cost me life itself, yet must I speak.” 

“ Surely, man, thy fears make a plaything of 
thee. What hast thou to tell that would forfeit thy 
life? I fear that thou hast addled thy pate with 
overmuch godale and like brews,” answered Noel, 
lightly. 

“ Nay, believe me, for I speak truth and am full 
sober. As thou dost value life and liberty, thou 
must not go on the ships that sail to-morrow for 
Acre.” 

“ Now, by my faith, fellow, if thou hast brought 
me all this way into thy dark hole, only to tell me 
this, I am minded to sober thy ale-addled pate by 
a good trouncing, which will also teach thee to be 
more heedful in the future,” answered Noel, testily, 
not a little angered by this show of foolish mys- 
tery. 

Martin’s hand closed over his arm again, and his 
face, which was deadly earnest, drew closer. 

“ Good Master Talbot, forbear, and believe that 
this is no idle or drunken foolery. I am not gone 
in my cups, but speak as soberly as ever I did in 
my life. Thou must not go.” 

“ And I say that I will, fellow,” Noel answered, 


2l6 


The Sign of Triumph 


perversely, feeling that it was enough to have fought 
this battle out with self for two weeks past without 
having his decision questioned now by a drunken 
fool. 

“If thou wilt not heed me without, then must I 
tell thee all, even if I lose life in the telling. But 
first, swear to me not to reveal aught of what I 
say. Swear by bread, by wine, by salt, — nay, it 
is not enough, — swear by thy very soul.” 

The man’s seriousness had at last made an im- 
pression on Noel, and, after a moment of hesitation, 
he raised his hand and uttered the oath demanded 
of him. 

Then, in whispers, with head close against Noel’s, 
Martin began to unfold to his astonished and hor- 
rified listener the reason for the charity of the good 
merchants of Marseilles : that they were in fact 
slavers, and that this host of Christian children, 
setting out in faith and love to do a beautiful deed, 
were destined to be sold in the bazars of Alexandria 
to any rich unbeliever who fancied them. At first 
he would not believe the monstrous thing, and said 
as much to Martin, who smote his hands together 
in the strength of his despairing desire to make 
him realize the truth of his words. 

“Master, why should I tell thee it else?” he 


The Sign of Triumph 


217 


demanded, passionately. “ What profit is it to me? 
I know whereof I speak. Have I not sailed the 
seas these three years for them, and seen this thing 
done afore? Go 1 I not to-morrow on one of these 
selfsame ships ? ” 

“ And why, dog, dost thou not say these things 
in the ears of the prud’hommes of Marseilles, and 
have these men haled before a judge to answer for 
their crimes?” cried Noel, ablaze with righteous 
indignation. 

Martin lifted his shoulders and spread his hands 
wide, in a gesture which spoke eloquently of the 
futility of such an act. 

“ I have a wish to keep my skin whole, master. 
What think you would be the outcome? Would 
the magistrates of the town listen to the simple word 
of a sailor, unbacked by proof, against two of its 
richest merchants? Thou dost dote to think it. 
And I, I would be found some dark night there- 
after with a stiletto thrust betwixt my ribs — dead. 
I may not even leave this service, which I entered 
in good faith, thinking it honest merchant service. 
I have seen not a few pretty fellows try it, and go 
out of life as I have told thee, lest some fine day 
their tongues loosen, and the tale come out. Ah,” 
he shuddered, looking over his shoulder into the 


218 The Sign of Triumph 

shadow behind him, and putting his hand to his 
back, as if he already felt the thrust of the knife. 
“ Santa Lucia, I feel the tickle of that sharp point 
even in speaking thus.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


When at length, by cross-examination and ques- 
tion, Noel had satisfied himself that Martin spoke 
only truth, and his stumbling feet had once more 
been guided through the dark passage and back to< 
the street, the hour of midnight had sounded on 
the bells of Santa Lucia. The men parted in silence, 
Noel too stunned by what he had just heard to per- 
mit of speech. He turned toward the house of 
Dame Soumaise when Martin left him, well know- 
ing as he did so that there would be no hope of 
admittance at such an hour without bringing the 
watch down upon him, subjecting him to endless 
question and possibly some trouble. He consoled 
himself with the thought that morning was not far 
distant, and that there was little use to seek his 
couch when sleep had been driven from it by such 
a grisly spectre as Martin had conjured up. So he 
paced the streets, thinking, thinking, thinking, the 
blood beating in his head until it seemed likely to 
burst from the pressure, turning the matter over, 
219 


220 


The Sign of Triumph 

viewing it in every light, hoping to find some means 
to prevent this awful sacrifice of six thousand chil- 
dren. But, turn which way he would, there seemed 
no hope. Martin was right, for, even if he were 
minded to break his solemn oath and send the grate- 
ful fellow to certain death, who would believe his 
word, or that of a half-drunken sailor, against 
wealthy and respectable merchants who were well 
known in the city. It was idle to expect it, and, 
though he long combated this conclusion, in the 
end he realized that, if he could rescue the one child 
dear to his heart, it was all that he could do. In- 
deed, the question rose, could he even do this much, 
for he remembered only too well that never yet had 
the boy yielded one jot to him in this matter of 
abandoning the Crusade, and what had he to tell 
him now that would change him? A few vague 
hints of unknown danger. Indeed, the longer he 
thought, the greater became his despair. If the 
time had been longer, if fate had only thrown Mar- 
tin Double in his way earlier, he thought that by 
strategy he might have been able to accomplish 
what he knew to be impossible by persuasion. With 
the help of a deadening drug of some sort, he might 
have been able to steal Raoul away while he was 
unconscious. 

But, in spite of his gloomy forebodings, he had 


221 


The Sign of Triumph 

no intention of yielding until every expedient had 
been tried. He made up his mind to seek an apothe- 
cary as soon as it was light, provide himself with 
the drug, and trust to opportunity to use it if he 
must. 

The night wore on slowly; Noel did not pause 
in his restless march except when the shuffling foot 
of the watch drew near, and his lantern showed a 
distant point of light in the blackness; then he 
would seek hasty shelter behind some abutting ma- 
sonry, and wait until the representative of the law 
had passed. 

As soon as the first cock crew, and the east began 
to show gray, he turned his impatient steps toward 
that portion of the town where the guild of apothe- 
caries kept shop. Glancing with practised eyes over 
the exteriors, he selected one which looked the least 
well to do, for here, he thought, gold would speak 
the most eloquently if his tongue lacked persuasion. 

Twice he beat a sounding rat-tat-tat on the door 
before the casement above was thrown open, and a 
rasping voice demanded why honest folk were thus 
aroused from slumber before light was come. 

“ I have great need, neighbour, else I had not 
beaten on thy door,” answered Noel, in a tone meant 
to rebuke. 

Possibly the apothecary took this to mean that 


222 


The Sign of Triumph 


some fellow creature lying at death’s door had need 
of his services, for he made no retort beyond a mut- 
tered grumble, as he slammed the casement together. 
It was some time before he unbarred and threw wide 
the door, and Noel had almost reached the conclu- 
sion that he had gone back to slumber, leaving his 
needs to care for themselves. On entering the shop, 
which had a close, musty smell, Noel saw that the 
fellow had stayed to light a small brass lamp, which 
burned dimly, swinging over his shop counter. It 
was a queer, dark place, with bunches of dried herbs 
and simples hanging from the low rafters, and row 
upon row of tall vials on the shelf against the wall. 
A retort for distilling held one end of the long 
table and a pair of nicely adjusted brass balances 
the other. 

“ Well, master, what is thy great need?” he 
asked, sourly, eyeing Noel with a pair of narrow, 
close-set eyes. He was villainously ugly, with a 
long beaked nose, which gave him the look of a bird 
of prey. 

“ Good Master Apothecary, I have need of thine 
art, which is well known here in Marseilles. I 
would have of thee a something which is not harm- 
ful to life, yet will throw a person into a sleep so 
deep that he knows naught of that which passes 
about him; canst thou provide me with such a 


The Sign of Triumph 223 

thing?” asked Noel, in a manner meant to pro- 
pitiate. 

The apothecary looked him slowly over, his nar- 
row eyes seeming to grow more close. 

“ Ay, I can, but I will not. Such things are not 
for every ignorant and evilly disposed person to 
have.” Then swiftly, as if he hoped to startle the 
truth from his customer : “ Thou dost desire this 
for a wench. Thou shouldst have said, somewhat 
to throw a person into a sleep so deep that she will 
not know aught of what passes. Speak I not the 
truth? ” 

Noel neither started nor showed signs of guilt. 
He was not of a mind to tell for what purpose he 
required the drug, however, so he met his mean 
gaze unflinchingly. 

“ I came to thee to buy, not to confess me. It 
concerns thee naught for what purpose I wish it,” 
he returned. 

“ It concerns me much, and thou canst not have 
it, my master,” he answered, raspingly. 

“ Then I must be at the pains of knocking up thy 
neighbour, to see if he will be better disposed toward 
a good trade,” answered Noel, lightly, letting two 
gold coins which he had taken from his pouch 
chink softly as he turned away. 

“ Nay, nay, be not so hasty,” Noel heard him say 


224 


The Sign of Triumph 


when his foot was on the door-sill; then muttering 
to himself : “ Why should I pause ? another will 
give it to him, beside the which, ’tis but for this 
that a wench comes into the world.” 

Noel turned then, knowing that the gold had 
spoken the language which the man best understood. 

“ Hast thou considered, and wilt thou give it 
me?” he demanded. 

“ Ay, ay, wait but a moment. Youth is ever so 
impatient; it will not yield age an instant in which 
to consider.” He turned then to fumble in a drawer, 
and, after a little, brought to light a tiny crystal vial 
filled with a thick brown liquid having the rank 
smell of a crushed weed. 

“ Dip the needle-point of thy dagger into this,” 
said he, placing the vial in Noel’s hand. “ As much 
as shall adhere to it in one heavy drop, that let fall 
into a cup of wine. ’Twill cause deep sleep for 
many hours.” 

Noel paid him the two coins, and, stepping out 
into the early dawn, turned again toward the house 
of Dame Soumaise. 

When the good woman answered his summons 
and unbarred the door for him, she cast on him a 
look of outraged virtue, which was meant as a re- 
buke for his night wanderings. He heard her mut- 
ter, as he turned away, of being glad this day to 


225 


The Sign of Triumph 

rid herself of roistering night-walkers. He smiled, 
thinking how different his vigil had been from what 
she supposed. In spite of this, he wore the haggard 
and hollow-eyed look of a night carouser who steals 
home in the early dawn, spent from his excesses. 

When he entered the room above, he found Raoul 
already astir, full of excitement, looking as if sleep 
had refused to visit him also. Stephen was no 
longer with them, for, since the offer of the mer- 
chants had restored faith to the Crusaders, he had 
for a third time taken his place as honoured prophet, 
and was lodged again at the monastery. 

Without a word of greeting to Raoul, who 
watched him curiously, Noel seated himself on the 
bedside and drew the boy between his knees. He 
looked long into the great blue eyes, which stabbed 
him afresh with their resemblance. “ Oh, thou un- 
known woman, whom my heart desires, pray to thy 
God that He may move the hard heart of this child 
to listen to me,” was the thought which flashed from 
him like a prayer. 

“ Raoul,” he said at last, “ dost thou indeed love 
me?” 

The boy’s eyes widened an instant at the sober 
tone of the question, then, with one of those im- 
pulses which sometimes moved him, he flung his 


226 


The Sign of Triumph 


arms about the man’s neck, dragging his head down 
until his cheek lay against it. 

The look, the act, said more than words, and Noel 
felt a little catch of joy in his throat. He unfastened 
the clasping hands, and, holding one in each of his, 
said : “ And thou dost trust me, Raoul, I know, 
I will not ask this ? ” yet he paused expectantly, 
doing in very truth the thing he said he would not. 

His answer was a look of confidence so absolute 
as to satisfy the most exacting. 

“ Then listen to me, child, when I tell thee that 
thou must not sail in the ships which go to-day. 
Nay, I well know that all of this hath been threshed 
over afore betwixt us, but now I tell thee, if thou 
dost set value on that which to a free man is dearer 
than life itself, thou must not go.” 

Raoul’s answer was to put his arms about Noel’s 
neck and begin to sob miserably. “ I love thee, 
Noel, I love thee,” he said between his tears. 

“Then thou wilt heed and stay with me?” the 
man asked, hopefully. 

“ I cannot ; thou dost know that I am not free 
in this. My vow binds me, ' Dieu le volt / ” he 
sobbed, entreatingly. 

“ Then I was mistook, and thou dost not love 
me.” A pang of bitter disappointment sounded in 
his voice. 


The Sign of Triumph 


227 


Raoul’s protest was a cry of pain, which made 
Noel feel as if he were torturing some weak thing 
which had not power to defend itself. 

“ Wouldst thou give heed to me if I did assure 
thee that neither thou nor any of all this great com- 
pany will ever come to set foot on the Holy Land 
to which they journey, but will rather live to bend 
their backs in unrecompensed labour for heathen 
masters, until death mercifully sets them free? 
Wouldst thou give heed to me then?” 

A look of puzzled misery settled for a moment 
on the boy’s face, but it passed quickly. He threw 
up his head with a gallant motion, which, in after 
years, came to be a habit whenever danger threat- 
ened. 

“ And wilt thou have me believe that the Christ 
who called us from our homes to follow Him could 
let such things be? ” 

“ But I tell thee that such things will be,” Noel 
maintained sternly. 

“ How dost thou know ? Art thou a prophet to 
see what will be ere it comes to pass ? ” 

“ Oh, child, child, do not toss arguments with 
me. I cannot tell thee more than that I know this 
thing will be,” answered Noel, desperately, seeing 
a look of dawning distrust in the boy’s eyes which 
cut him like a knife. 


228 


The Sign of Triumph 


“ Dieu le volt” answered Raoul, stubbornly. “If 
I must make choice of His wish or thine, then I 
have made it, and I go.” And he turned resolutely 
away from Noel, who, after waiting for a moment 
in hopes of his relenting, rose and left the house. 
He was not ready yet to acknowledge himself de- 
feated, not at least until he had sought out Father 
Denys. He knew that the priest had great confidence 
in him, and, during their long journey, had learned 
to lean on him in many things. To him, then, he 
would appeal, hoping to awaken him to a realiza- 
tion of the danger. If this failed, there remained 
only to take Raoul by force; but this must be by 
stealth also, for so mad were the people over the 
Crusades that he would not have been allowed to 
interfere with the boy had he been his own son, 
much less a child in whom he had no concern. 

When he entered the enclosure of the monastery 
where Father Denys had had lodging since his com- 
ing to Marseilles, it was to find the brothers already 
passing down the cloister toward the church, where, 
as in every church in Marseilles that day, mass was 
being said, and the young Crusaders were being 
confessed and absolved before their departure. Re- 
gardless of everything except the matter in hand, 
Noel hurried forward and took his stand in a spot 
where all the brothers must pass in review of his 


The Sign of Triumph 


229 


watchful eyes. At length he spied the priest walk- 
ing with down-bent head and clasped hands lost 
under the folds of his ample sleeves. As he passed, 
Noel caught at him, and he raised his head, meet- 
ing the eager glance of the man with an unrecog- 
nizing stare and without checking his step. Noel 
turned and walked beside him, clutching his loose 
sleeve as if he feared an attempt at escape. 

“ Father, father, I have somewhat to say to thee; 
for the love of Christ come aside with me but a 
moment.” He uttered his plea in a tone fraught 
with a terrible earnestness. 

The priest turned startled eyes on him, making 
a motion as if to pluck his sleeve from the detaining 
hold. “ Another time, my son,” he said, rebukingly ; 
“dost thou not see that greater duties call me?” 

“ Father, listen to me ; there can be no greater 
duty than the one which I bring for thy doing. 
Stay but a moment and give heed; stay, I beseech 
thee,” he implored. 

“ Then say thy say quickly, man,” he com- 
manded, impatiently, turning aside at last and drop- 
ping out of the line. 

It was not until he faced him thus that Noel 
realized he had no tale to tell, only vague forebod- 
ings and pleadings, and even for these words came 


230 


The Sign of Triumph 


stumblingly, the very strength of his emotion prov- 
ing a hindrance. 

“ This Crusade, this monstrous thing, must be 
stopped. I cannot tell thee why, yet for the love 
of the Virgin heed me, and put an end to it. I tell 
thee that 'twill be worse than death for all those 
who go upon it." In the agony of his desire to 
make him feel the truth of his incoherent ravings, 
Noel seized the priest by the shoulders and almost 
shook him. 

He was quick to see the look of fright that crept 
into the other’s face, and, realizing his mistake, he 
released him promptly. The priest backed away, 
with startled eyes still fixed on the face opposite. 

“ Thou art beside thyself, man. Thou art far 
gone in wine, or trouble hath turned thy brain. 
Dost thou imagine with thy puny hand to stay this 
multitude which the Lord Himself hath gathered 
and led forth to conquest? Thou art indeed mad." 

The sense of his utter impotence caught Noel in 
its grip. He dashed his hand against a sharp cor- 
ner of stone with such force as to leave a bloody 
mark upon it. This served but to frighten the priest 
the more, and convince him of the man’s madness. 

“ Dost thou not know, father, that the Saracens 
scour the sea, and are like to descend on thy defence- 
less fleet with their great dromons, and to take pris- 


The Sign of Triumph 


231 


oner all these children, and sell them into slavery? 
Thou knowest that Frankish slaves bring great 
prices in their marts. Think of this, man, and de- 
fend these helpless ones from such a fate,” pleaded 
Noel. 

“ Now I know that thou art possessed of an evil 
spirit which hath driven thee mad, Noel Talbot. 
Wouldst have me believe that the Christ who hath 
stretched out His arm to lead us thus far in safety 
can let such things be? God fights with us, who 
can be against us ? ” 

Noel thought of the poor, starved bodies, the 
pitifully small bones bleaching under the hot sum- 
mer suns, marking the way of their coming, and 
wondered how any could so forget. 

“ But if I tell thee, father, by the word of a Tal- 
bot, which hath never been held lightly, if I swear 
by my mother’s memory, that I know this will be 
the evil fate of all these children, wilt thou heed 
me then ? ” 

“ I will not, not if thou didst bring every saint 
in the calendar to back up thy blasphemous oaths. 
What, shall I believe my God a trickster, and yet 
hold that thou, the work of His hands, art true? 
Art thou better than that which did create and give 
thee life? Back, man, and hold me no longer from 
my going. The holy sacrifice of the Church awaits 


232 The Sign of Triumph 

me, and after that — the victorious going of the 
armies of the Lord, for ‘ with His own right hand 
and with His stretched-out arm hath He gotten 
Himself the victory,’ ” saying which, with a com- 
manding gesture, Father Denys turned away, and, 
going up the few steps which led from the cloister, 
disappeared into the church, leaving Noel staring 
blankly after him. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


When Father Denys passed into the church, Noel 
suddenly realized that this was all that he ought 
to have expected. He was not blind to the weak- 
ness of his arguments, nor had he ever shut his 
eyes to the fact that, in matters of faith, the priest 
was as much a child as the most unthinking little 
one in the company. In spite of this, he turned 
away with a sickening sense of failure, and, even 
as he passed down the cloister and sought the street, 
— answering the gatekeeper’s gentle word of bene- 
diction absently, — he was facing his last chance 
and resolving to grasp it. He turned toward the 
house of Dame Soumaise for the third time since 
midnight, determined now to detain Raoul by force, 
to trick him into drinking a cup of drugged wine, 
and thus keep him in spite of himself until after 
the ships had sailed. 

But in this he reckoned without his host, for, 
when he reached the room where he had left him 
a little while before, the boy had gone — to hear 


233 


234 The Sign of Triumph 

mass and whisper his light misdeeds in the ear of 
God, so that his white soul might carry no blot 
on the pure errand on which it was bent. Then 
it was that Noel knew that he had staked his last 
coin and lost, and that there remained nothing to 
be done except to tear the child’s clinging hands 
from his heart, and let him go to a doom from which 
he could not save him even if he followed. To this 
length of folly he could not, would not go. Life 
he would gladly sacrifice for Raoul if need were, 
but accept slavery he could not. 

He sat for a long time facing this sorrow which 
had fallen on him, all the gentler feelings which had 
been lately awakened in him lost in the rage with 
which he cursed a God who could sit in His high 
heaven and let such things be. Through his misery 
he was conscious in a vague and undefined way of 
the unknown woman whose image had haunted him 
for months past. He seemed to see her blue eyes 
gazing at him with a look of stern reproach because 
he was abandoning the boy, and he could not under- 
stand why she seemed to command him to such 
supreme sacrifice. He caught himself mentally ar- 
guing his case before her, striving to show her the 
futility of the thing which she asked of him. But 
to his overwrought imagination, her eyes never 
changed their stern look or relaxed their command. 


235 


The Sign of Triumph 

After a time he roused himself with the thought 
that, if he desired to see the child again, there re- 
mained only a short time in which to find him and 
say farewell. He thought at first that he would let 
him go, and not harrow his soul further, but the 
foolish longing for another word sent him into the 
street and toward the shore in spite of himself. 

Long before reaching the water, he could see the 
crowd, not only of children, but of the curious or 
devout citizens who lined the shore, watching the 
embarkation, which had already begun. At some 
distance out, seven great vessels rode at anchor with 
sails furled, and ports open to receive the burden 
from the heavily laden small boats which plied back 
and forth between land and the waiting monsters. 
The people on the shore stretched far along the bend 
in the harbour, for the whole town had closed shop 
and left work to watch this strange sight. As Noel 
made his way slowly through the crowd, looking 
anxiously in every direction, he caught many bits 
of talk, showing that some of the people were of 
his way of thinking, and feared much for the fate 
of this youthful army. He noticed one fellow, 
crooked of back and misshapen of limb, who gazed 
sorrowfully after an outgoing load, his shaking head 
expressing his forebodings. 

“ And what art thou wabbling thy overwise pate 


■ / 

236 The Sign of Triumph 

about, Master Luigi ? ” rasped the querulous tongue 
of a woman who was watching him. 

The great bull-neck of the man turned slowly, 
disclosing a pair of big, gentle eyes which looked 
at her for some instants before uttering his slow 
answer. 

“ I but consider all the reft homes in the land, 
and grieve at the thought of the ill fate in store for 
these unheeding ones/’ he said, simply. 

“ Thou speakest like a blasphemer. Dost doubt 
that ’tis the will of the Almighty ? ” 

“ Ay, that do I,” he answered, with vehemence. 

The woman uttered a scornful sound between 
tongue and teeth. “ Tis but to be expected that 
a misshapen body will have a misshapen mind to 
match, else wouldst thou see that this miracle which 
God hath wrought in the hearts of these two mer- 
chants of Marseilles is no less wonderful than if 
He had rolled back the waters for the going of His 
hosts, and yet thou wouldst have held no doubt had 
He done this. ,, 

“ Nay, as to that, I grant that there is much truth 
in thy saying, for in some sort Tis greater miracle 
to have moved the money-loving hearts of Master 
Ferrus and Master Porcus than to make the wind 
and wave obey Him. The Scripture doth give us 
warrant for the last belief, but experience hath 


The Sign of Triumph 


237 


taught us to doubt the former, unless perchance 
some profit is to accrue from it.” 

“ Shame, shame ! ” exclaimed the woman, in great 
disgust, while many bystanders took up the cry of 
“ Shame! ” and “ Fie on thee! ” 

This elicited a flash of anger from the dwarf. 
“ ’Tis little use to toss words with a woman ; they 
be ever the same silly cattle, whatever their station,” 
he answered, scornfully, turning contemptuously 
away. 

At this his antagonist shrilled shrewishly : “ Thou 
ugly, misshapen beast, ’tis seldom enough that thou 
canst get word of a woman, and I bemean myself 
by answering thee,” and she turned her back on the 
dwarf, who flushed sensitively at her taunt, but 
made no attempt to answer her. 

Noel gave slight heed to the agreement or dis- 
agreement of those about him, but pushed slowly 
through the crowd, gazing alertly in every direction. 
He had begun to despair, thinking the boy must 
have already gone aboard, when, from the rear, 
some one seized his hand and called his name joy- 
fully. Looking down to the child’s upturned eyes, 
he saw that the look of distrust which had filled 
them but so lately had vanished, leaving only love. 

Raoul gave a laugh which had a catch in it that 
was very near a sob of relief. “ I have sought for 


238 The Sign of Triumph 

thee this hour past, and, if thy head hadst not so 
towered over others, I had not found thee yet. I 
feared that thou wert angry with me, and didst love 
me no longer.” 

“ Nay, Raoul, my love changes not so lightly. 
I. too, have been seeking thee to say farewell,” an- 
swered Noel, sadly. 

He felt the child’s clasp tighten on his hand, and 
saw a look come into his face, which showed that 
for the first time he realized the truth, that Noel was 
indeed going to leave him. It was some minutes 
before he attempted to speak, and, when he did, he 
was trying manfully to restrain the tears which 
would well up in his eyes and choke his utterance. 

“ Art thou indeed going to leave me? ” he asked, 
with a quiver of the lip. 

Noel shook his head. “ It is thou who art leav- 
ing me, Raoul,” he answered, sorrowfully. 

He was scarcely prepared for what followed, for 
never before had the boy given way in such a fash- 
ion. He burst into a storm of uncontrollable tears, 
pleading between sobs that Noel go with him; he 
even tried, in childish phrases and half-choked 
words, to set before him the glory which he was 
foregoing in leaving them now at the very moment 
of victory; but his strongest plea, and the one to 


The Sign of Triumph 


239 


which he would return again and again was, “ Oh, 
I love you, Noel, I love you, do not leave me.” 

Noel tried to stop his tears, to argue with him. 
“ If you indeed love me, stay with me/’ he urged, 
but at this Raoul would clutch him closer and sob : 

If I could, if I could, but thou knowest that my 
vow holds me.” 

In truth, this was a breakdown to be expected, 
and was the direct result of the long fatigue and 
hardships through which the boy had passed so 
bravely. Every sob which he uttered tore Noel’s 
heart with a sense of his own cruelty. It was in 
vain to reason as he did, that no man could give 
up liberty to satisfy a boy’s headstrong whim; he 
knew that, if the child’s grief could not be stayed, 
he must yield, at least, so far as to go aboard with 
him, and then slip away before anchor was weighed. 
While he considered this, there flashed into his mind 
a desperate plan. Suppose they were to board the 
vessel upon which Martin Double sailed, might he 
not be able to drug Raoul, and, with the man’s as- 
sistance, steal a small boat, and trusting themselves 
to the sea, make their way back to shore under cover 
of darkness. It was a mad plan, with every chance 
against it, but it had no sooner entered the head 
of Noel than he determined to try it. “ If thou wilt 


240 The Sign of Triumph 

go in the Sancta Lucia , I will go with thee,” he 
exclaimed, impulsively. 

Scarcely had he given his hurried consent than 
he began to see the thousand difficulties in his way, 
and to regret his rashness. But it was too late, he 
told himself. He had given his word, and come 
what would, he meant to keep it. At the worst, 
he could stick to the boy until all hope was gone, 
then kill him and take his own life rather than be- 
come a slave. But that was a last resort, and he 
had enough of the true spirit of a gambler to hope 
that a better way would offer. 

It had taken most of the day to embark the chil- 
dren, and the sun, dropping almost to the water’s 
edge, streaked all its surface with colour before 
everything was in readiness. The deck of the vessel 
was stripped bare of all save carpenters’ and calkers’ 
tools and the great water-casks, which were ready 
filled for the voyage. The sails were still furled, 
and the anchor buried in the mud, and the ship 
swung at her chain, straining to be free and away. 
The ports were closed and calked as tight as a tun 
of wine, and the captain had examined the ship 
from hull to masthead. The deck, crowded with 
children, bristled with crosses, and quivered like 
flame when the breeze caught and fluttered the crim- 


The Sign of Triumph 


241 


son oriflammes. A temporary altar had been erected, 
and beside it stood a priest in full canonicals. 

At a word of command, the windlasses began to 
creak complaint, turning sullenly under the strong 
hands of the sailors, while the anchor slowly gave 
up its hold on the muddy bottom, and swung, drip- 
ping and streaming with seaweed, over the side, 
helped thereto by ready hands. Then came the com- 
mand to set the sail, “ In the name of the Father, 
the Son, and the Holy Ghost,” and the great purple 
and gold canvases, loosened to the breeze, flapped 
idly an instant, then filled slowly. On one sail was 
blazoned a rude figure of the Virgin with the Christ 
child held to her breast, the other showed Neptune 
with trident held aloft. Thus did the superstitious 
sailor of the day propitiate the gods both old and 
new. 

Suddenly the deck seemed to start trembling into 
life, and the ship moved proudly away. The voice 
of the priest lifted the hymn which mariners always 
used in those days, and every child caught it up 
sweetly, on the nearest vessel, and the next, and the 
next, until the air was filled with its floating melody, 
as the seven ships moved majestically seaward, the 
setting sun brightening the purple and gold of their 
sails and lighting up their gaudy blazoning. 


242 


The Sign of Triumph 


“ Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire, 

And lighten with celestial fire, 

Thou the anointing Spirit art, 

Who dost thy sevenfold gift impart. 

“Thy blessed unction from above, 

Is comfort, life, and fire of love; 

Enable with perpetual light, 

The dulness of our blinded sight. 

“ Anoint and cheer our soiled face, 

With the abundance of thy grace; 

Keep far our foes, give peace at home; 

Where thou art guide no ill can come.” 

% 

During this time, Noel stood moodily at the ves- 
sel’s side, with eyes fixed on the receding shore, a 
moving mass of colour by reason of the waving 
couvre-chefs and scarves which the cheering, shout- 
ing multitude were keeping in the air. The bright, 
shifting mass had blended into one kaleidoscopic 
whole ; the sun dropped below the horizon, and the 
steely light began to run like swift serpents over 
the crests of the waves and vanish quickly into the 
sombre depths between, before he turned away. A 
feeling near to absolute despair held him in speech- 
less misery. So far, he had not seen Martin Double, 
and a fear that he had mistaken the vessel, or that 
the man was not aboard, began to possess him. He 
felt like an animal in a trap, and the maddened 
desire for freedom became a physical pain. 


The Sign of Triumph 


243 


He left his post and walked drearily forward, 
moving in the aimless manner of one who has for 
the time given up the fight. Though the breeze was 
light and the water calm, the slight swaying motion 
of the ship had already sent most of the children 
below, a prey to the heretofore unknown miseries 
of seasickness. The gloom was deepening fast, the 
line of the shore was almost entirely shut away. 
Suddenly Noel's heart stood still, then gave one 
great bound of joy; he had almost collided with 
Martin Double. There was still light enough to 
distinguish him at close range, and to see the start 
of fright with which he put out his hand, as if to 
ward Noel away. 

“ God’s death ! ” he exclaimed, hoarsely, “ what 
have I ever done to thee that thou shouldst appear 
thus before me ? ” 

Noel burst into a mirthless laugh, and gave Mar- 
tin a sounding blow on the shoulder. “ Thou super- 
stitious fool,” he said, scornfully, “ hath a spectre 
the feel of that ? ” 

But Martin’s fears seemed in no whit allayed. 
His mouth fell agape, he stared witlessly, nor, for a 
moment or two, was he able to summon courage to 
stretch out his trembling hand and touch the other’s 
arm. Then he said, in a half-despairing voice: 


244 The Sign of Triumph 

“ Man, man, why art thou here ? Art thou reft of 
reason? ” 

Noel flung the hand petulantly from his arm. 
“ Ay, thou hast spoken but truth. I am indeed be- 
reft of reason, and by a child.” He caught Mar- 
tin’s arm and drew him close. 

“ Surely, surely, Martin, all is not yet lost. 
Gambler that I am, I have this time staked myself, 
and I will not lose. Mayhap, ere we reach Alex- 
andria, we touch at some port, some spot however 
desert, where I can steal the boy and depart. Be- 
think you, Martin, is it not so ? ” he demanded, 
fiercely, shaking the man to rouse him from the 
stupor into which he seemed to have fallen. But 
Martin’s head negatived this before he opened his 
mouth to answer. 

“ Nay, man, thou art doomed, and by thine own 
act, for I warned thee. To think that such a proper 
man as thou shouldst lose liberty, and maybe life, 
for a puling child. ’Tis past belief.” 

“ I have not lost either yet, and I am not minded 
to,” answered Noel, defiantly. “ I have one chance 
more, and thou must assist me to it,” and with this 
he unfolded to Martin his wild plan for stealing 
one of the small boats and putting back to shore. 

Suddenly as he talked, Martin flung up his head, 
sniffed the air and considered. 


The Sign of Triumph 


245 


“ It hath the smell of a falling breeze — mayhap 
— if it is so, and we are becalmed — thou mightest 
be able to do it,” he said, as if weighing each point 
to the full. “ But thou must go alone, master. I’ll 
not risk my neck by reason of the brat’s crying out 
and giving the alarm.” 

“ Unless the child goes, I go not,” answered Noel, 
firmly. “ But thou shalt be . at no risk because of 
him ; I have with me in a vial something which will 
render him as one dead.” 

Some time longer did the two talk together in 
undertones, and Noel had to use much persuasion 
to get his way, but in the end the sailor yielded. 
By this time it had grown pitchy black, for it was 
a moonless night. 

Full of hope, Noel hurried below to find Raoul. 
The close, stuffy air between decks almost stifled 
him, and the feeble light from a smoking lantern, 
which swung lazily with the motion of the ship, 
showed the floor covered with children in every 
stage of illness. It was some time before, stooping 
and peering in the dim light, he discovered the boy, 
and at first sight of his face he thought him dead, 
so ghastly pale was his drawn face. 

Martin, who had followed, fetched a cup of water, 
and Noel, going under the light of the lantern, took 
from his pouch the crystal vial. Remembering the 


246 The Sign of Triumph 

apothecary’s direction, he drew his dagger and 
dipped it into the thick, dark fluid. A large brown 
drop adhered heavily to its point. Plunging this 
into the water, he washed it about until the metal 
was clean again. Kneeling at Raoul’s side, he roused 
him gently. The boy opened his eyes. 

“ Drink this, Raoul, it will make thy sickness 
easier.” 

He drank trustfully, making a wry face at the 
bitterness of the draught, then closed his eyes wear- 
ily. Fearing that nausea might make him part with 
the medicine before it had had time to do its work, 
Noel lifted the child and bore him on deck into the 
fresh air. 


CHAPTER XX. 


Time passed slowly for Noel, seated in a dark 
spot on the deck with the sleeping boy resting heav- 
ily across his knees. A large lantern had been 
swung up against the mainmast, and similar lights, 
winking and blinking across the water, told him 
where each of the six vessels rode at anchor, for 
Martin had been a true prophet, and they were be- 
calmed. The night wore on, and sleep locked the 
senses of the weary children, the crew slept, and 
even the watch drowsed at his post. Noel also felt 
the power of sleep dragging down his heavy lids, 
which had not known any closing the night before, 
and he was obliged to prick himself into wakeful- 
ness with the sharp point of his dagger. It seemed 
to him that morning must be near, and a fear that 
Martin’s courage had given out beset him, and made 
him more restless than he would have been. At 
last he felt, rather than saw, a denser patch of 
shadow creeping slowly toward him. It drew nearer, 
until its faint outline revealed the figure of a man, 


247 


248 


The Sign of Triumph 


and Martin’s hand grasped his shoulder, and Mar- 
tin’s whispered voice bade him come. 

Noiselessly he lifted the sleeping boy, who hung 
as limp and resistless as if he were dead, but, when 
Noel fearfully bent over him, he found his breath 
flowing with a soft regularity that entirely reas- 
sured him. 

Following the shadow of Martin, he made his 
way aft, the darkness seeming denser by contrast 
with the fore part of the vessel, where the light shed 
its small illumination. Here they paused, and Noel 
laying Raoul on the deck, the two men began to lift 
and lower one of the cockleshell boats. It was no 
great matter for two able-bodied men, but it had 
to be done so noiselessly as to make of it a well- 
nigh impossible task. Every move, every sound, 
however slight, seemed to Noel like a crash of 
thunder, and he would pause breathlessly, with 
throbbing heart, to see if they had drawn the watch 
upon them. Martin, working with steady quiet, 
urged his companion to speed whenever for an in- 
stant he hesitated, until at length they succeeded 
in getting the boat over the side, and, paying out 
the rope slowly, heard it softly kiss the water and 
settle into place. With the quickness of a cat, Mar- 
tin followed, sliding down the rope and dropping 
into the boat, while Noel, working with fingers 


The Sign of Triumph 


249 


which haste made awkward, at last succeeded in 
fastening a rope around Raoul’s body under the 
armpits. Lifting him with care, he lowered him 
slowly over the side until he felt Martin grasp and 
draw him safely in and loosen the rope. Then, 
with beating heart and high hope, he followed as 
Martin had done, and felt the frail craft rock un- 
easily beneath his feet as he swung himself into it. 
No time for grateful words, though they welled 
up in his heart. A close grip of the hand, Martin’s 
strong touch for an instant on his shoulder, “ May 
Our Lady of the Sea keep thee, master,” — “ And 
thee, Martin Double,” then a dark shadow crept 
with the agility of a cat up the rope, and there re- 
mained nothing for Noel to do except to unfasten 
the iron hooks and cast off to freedom. 

This he did, feeling in the darkness for the oars, 
pushing away from the great black hulk which had 
come so near to being a prison for him. Rowing 
quietly, and avoiding the streaks of light which the 
ship’s lantern sent across the water, he thanked 
whatsoever gods there were for the calm and wind- 
less night which made escape possible. 

He plied his oars, resting from time to time, and 
guiding his course by the stars, under which he had 
slept so many nights that the spangled surface of 
the heavens had for him the familiarity of a friend’s 


250 


The Sign of Triumph 


face. Now and again he would lean forward to 
the bottom of the boat to listen to the breathing of 
the boy, which still continued regular and easy, as 
one who' sleeps naturally, if heavily. At one such 
time, he discovered that the boat was leaking a little, 
and the lad’s body lay in a little pool of salt water. 
He propped his head out of it, then returned to the 
oars, which his weary muscles and sleep-racked 
brain were making a labour almost too heavy for 
him. 

When the light began to> brighten in the east, its 
first faint rays showed him the outline of the shore 
not far distant, and, before the sun had risen above 
the horizon, he had landed and lifted Raoul from 
his wet couch. Knowing that he must go another 
day without rest, some refreshment he felt he must 
have, so, finding a sheltered spot, he laid Raoul 
there, and, throwing off his clothes, plunged into 
the fresh, cool water and splashed and swam until 
the first red light of the sun had turned the world 
rosy under its kiss. Then he came out into its 
warmth, and when it had dried him, he donned his 
clothes, feeling revivified and strengthened by this 
simple act. Now that it was light, he could see that 
they were not far distant from Marseilles, for its 
turrets, walls, and bell-towers showed clearly in the 
distance. As he stood there in the sweet light of 


The Sign of Triumph 


251 


morning - , refreshed and made new by nature's simple 
kindliness, a feeling of joy such as he had never 
known in his life surged over him. He remem- 
bered from what he had been so mercifully delivered, 
and he looked on the world with eyes that seemed 
new-opened to see beauty where only ugliness had 
been. Solemn thoughts welled up in his soul and 
fought for utterance. “ Thine arm didst not achieve 
this thing, give God the glory," said something 
within him, and in words unspoken, which were 
but a surge of thanksgiving, he did give Him the 
glory, and took a first step toward a new faith, as 
a tottering child takes its first unsteady step toward 
its father’s outstretched hand. After a time, his 
selfish joy in his own and Raoul’s deliverance gave 
place to question and rebellion at thought of the 
multitude of children who still sailed on to their 
doom, and his mounting spirit came down as swiftly 
as it had gone up. Then he began to question as to 
how far God should be held blamable for the wrong- 
doing of man, or man’s own wilfulness. 

But he soon dismissed these thoughts as matters 
for priests to solve, concluding that there was other 
work for him than standing there, trying to put the 
blame of this pitiful undertaking where it ought to 
rest. Lifting Raoul, still sleeping heavily, he set out 
for Marseilles. 


252 


The Sign of Triumph 


On nearing the city, he came on a hovel just out- 
side of the wall. It was the dwelling of the hang- 
man of the town, for, in those days, one who fol- 
lowed this ignominious calling was not allowed to 
live in companionship with his kind. When Noel 
rapped heavily at the door, he did not know before 
whose portal he stood. He was obliged to knock 
a second time before a shock head of dirty black 
hair and a pair of reddened eyes in a pale face met 
his gaze. 

“ What would you ? ” growled the man, eyeing 
him evilly. “ Hast thou work for me thus early in 
the morning ? ” He seemed fairly to gloat over the 
slight, limp figure of the boy. 

It suddenly came to Noel who the wretch was, 
and what his calling; he could scarcely repress a 
shudder. Nevertheless, he pushed past the fellow, 
and lowered Raoul on a pile of dirty straw, which 
seemed all that there was to serve as bed. 

“ I have work for thee, sirrah, for which, if done 
as I bid, thou shalt have a livre, but if other than 
as I say, thou’lt have thy craven heart cut from thy 
body and thrown as food for the crows who live 
around thine own gibbet,” answered Noel, sternly. 

“ Thou art overquick with thy threats, master, 
and shouldst be certain of thine ability to carry them 


The Sign of Triumph 


253 


out ere thou give such pat utterance to them,” coun- 
selled the man, sullenly. 

“ Be assured that I am,” returned Noel, grimly. 
“ Now give heed to what I say. Let the boy lie 
there and sleep. If he rouse, which I greatly doubt, 
thou shalt detain him by force if he try to leave, 
but have a care, no injury, however slight, must he 
suffer. If thou wilt faithfully carry out my wish, 
the money shall be thine, if not, thou canst pay me 
as I have said, and I will throw thy payment to 
the crows.” 

A few minutes later Noel entered the city gate, 
and sought out the man for whose ass he had bar- 
gained now nearly a month earlier. Having paid 
the price for the animal and led it away, he took 
time to refresh himself with food and wine, and to 
fill the panniers of the beast with such provisions 
as he thought would be best fitted for the journey, 
the greater part of his store being the twice-baked 
bread used in those days in siege and in travel. 
This done, he returned to the hangman’s hovel, to 
find the owner sitting on a bench outside, drinking 
himself rapidly into his usual state of oblivion. His 
sour, morose expression had vanished, and he lifted 
a rasping voice in a ribald song, which would have 
wakened any sleeper less dead to the world than 
Raoul. Noel paid him the promised coin, and, rais- 


254 The Sign of Triumph 

in g the boy from his foul-smelling resting-place, 
passed out into the clean sunshine, thankful to be 
free of the taint of the evil presence which lurked 
about. 

He set Raoul on the back of the sturdy little ani- 
mal, walking beside him to hold him in place. It 
was slow travelling necessarily, but, until the boy 
became conscious, it was the best that could be done. 
The jogging motion of the beast jarred the child, 
so that after a little he began to struggle heavily to 
wakefulness. When they passed a brook on the 
wayside, Noel lifted him down, and dashed water 
on his head and face until his heavy eyes opened. 
It was a moment to be dreaded, for he did not know 
how the child would accept his action. He feared 
that he might refuse to believe his story, and so 
bitterly resent his enforced desertion of a cause 
which he loved and in which he still believed. 

But, though the boy’s eyes opened when the water 
touched his face, they held no look of consciousness, 
and the heavy lids fell together almost instantly. 
Noel set him back on the ass again, and they jogged 
slowly on as before. Sometimes Raoul held his eyes 
open for a time, oftener they remained closed, but 
after a little they stayed open for longer intervals, 
and his body seemed to be holding itself sleepily 
upright, instead of depending so entirely upon Noel. 


255 


The Sign of Triumph 

It was toward evening, the sun was sinking; they 
were toiling up a hill from whose side they had a 
panoramic view of the country below. Behind them 
stretched the road, turning and twisting until it lost 
itself in greenness of vine and tree. Beneath, the 
valley lay fair and luxuriant, dotted with gnarled 
gray-green olive-trees, while to the right and above, 
crowning the low hill, were the ruins of what had 
once been a Roman villa, but was now a heap of 
stones, moss-grown and vine-covered, where sum 
shine and shadow chased each other beneath the 
dense shade of the ilex, and green lizards, scudding 
swiftly, gave the only sign of life. Suddenly Raoul’s 
hand fell on his companion’s arm, and, turning, 
Noel saw for the first time that day a look of under- 
standing in the child’s eyes. 

“Where am I? How came I here? Are we 
already come to Jerusalem ? ” His three questions 
were almost as one, so eagerly did they press oh 
each other. 

The ass came to a standstill, busily endeavouring 
to rid himself of the insects which buzzed about, 
tormenting him. Noel caught the boy’s hands and 
held them strongly in his own. “ No, Raoul, this 
is not the land for which we set out. Thou mayst 
live to see that at some future day, but hadst thou 
remained aboard ship, thou wouldst never have seen 


256 The Sign of Triumph 

it or the land of thy birth again. Believe me, child, 
thou shalt believe me,” he exclaimed, desperately, 
as he saw the look of dawning distrust in the boy’s 
eyes. And there upon the roadside, leaning on the 
neck of the patient beast, Noel told him all, not 
speaking to him now in hints, but unfolding all 
that Martin had said. He told him also of how he 
had drugged him, and, with Martin’s help, stolen 
him from the Sancta Lucia. At first the old doubt 
tugged hard, but in the end the truth of the story 
forced itself upon the boy. He believed, and, in 
believing, threw himself forward on the neck of 
the ass, crying, in a despairing voice : 

“ Then there is no God, or He sleepeth.” 

The words gave Noel a shock. In his effort to 
save Raoul from bodily harm, he had overlooked 
the fact of what this awakening must be to a nature 
like his. By the little spark of faith so lately born 
in his own heart, he realized what the boy’s loss 
would be. It must not come; somehow this must 
be saved also. So it often happens; in our days 
of prodigality, we unconsciously light a little fire 
of faith in the heart of a friend, before which we 
come in time to warm ourselves when trial has sent 
us stripped and shivering into the world. In halt- 
ing fashion, then, Noel tried to put into words some 


The Sign of Triumph 257 

of the thoughts which had come to' him that morn- 
ing. 

“ I doubt, child, if God should be held account- 
able for the wilfulness and ill-doing of man, and I 
sometimes wonder if man himself has so heavy an 
accountability, seeing how much of his ill is but 
ignorance. I have never held that the vision of 
Stephen was other than a man, — maybe an over- 
officious priest, — striving by the example of the 
children to put to shame their laggard elders, little 
dreaming the while of the disaster which would 
come from his deception.” 

Still Raoul sobbed on. “ Yet if God be God, why 
did He not stretch forth His hand and save His 
little children ? ” 

At this Noel could only shake a dubious head. 

“ Nay, Raoul, if thou dost begin to ask a why 
of thy God, thou wilt have thy mouth full of the 
word all thy days, yet never get headful of answers 
to thy questions. Mayhap there would be no need 
of faith if thou couldst lay thy two and two to- 
gether and make it four, as doth the mathematician 
on his tablets. The merit of faith, methinks, lieth 
somewhat in its hardness to practise, and becomes 
in some sort a test of thy fitness for receiving.” 

But in his first passion of sorrow and disappoint- 
ment, no words seemed to have any weight, and it 


258 The Sign of Triumph 


was long after they turned from the road and sought 
a place of refuge for the night, in what had once 
been a gay pleasance at the side of the ruined villa, 
that he still sobbed and questioned and rebelled. 

Noel spread a simple meal for him, and coaxed 
him to eat a few mouthfuls. He seemed to have a 
distaste for food and wine, but drank with greedi- 
ness the cold water which was brought him. 

When darkness came on, they stretched them- 
selves under the deep shadow of an ilex. In spite 
of his two nights of wakefulness, Noel did not at 
once lose himself. After awhile he heard a muffled 
sob near him, and, raising himself on his elbow, 
he touched Raoul, whose slight body, was shaking 
with suppressed emotion. 

“ What ails thee, why art thou not asleep ? ” he 
demanded, gently. 

Another sob, then, “ Sleep will not come, and I 
fear the dark.” 

“ Mayhap if thou wilt say the prayer which thou 
hast omitted, sleep will come, and fear will go,” 
suggested Noel, gently, for he had seen with sorrow 
that, for the first time, the boy lay down without 
his prayers. 

He saw the shadowy figure come upright and stay 
so a minute, and he knew then that the worst was 
over, for, if habit would hold Raoul to the familiar 


The Sign of Triumph 


259 


act, in time the meaning- would come again to it, 
though faith might never be as it had been — with- 
out question. 

After Raoul’s regular breathing told him that at 
last rest had come, Noel still lay wakeful with a new 
train of thought going through his mind. It had 
come to him that perhaps he, too, owed something 
to God, and that it was hardly consistent to urge 
the payment of such a debt from another, and with- 
hold it himself. He pondered the question long 
after the boy slept, and ended by putting up a halt- 
ing word of thanksgiving, a prayer SO' vague that I 
doubt if any save the All Wise Himself could dis- 
tinguish aught save the motive which gave it being. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


The return journey took Noel and the boy over 
the road which they had trodden such a brief time 
before, and under such widely different circum- 
stances. On passing those spots where the army 
had encamped for the night, and often beside the 
roadway, they chanced upon the small, clean-picked 
bones, which told a tale to make a stronger than 
poor Raoul shudder, and turn terror-stricken eyes 
away. 

Whether from the effect of the drug administered, 
or the shock which the boy had sustained after his 
long fatigue and hardship, he never seemed to come 
quite to sanity. At first this showed itself in a 
brooding spirit which caused him to stare before 
him for hours without speaking; later he began to 
mutter and talk to himself or question God sternly 
because of His dealings with the children. Some- 
times he would cry out for his mother, and talk of 
things and people of whom Noel knew nothing, but 
this was not until he began to sicken with fever. 

260 


The Sign of Triumph 261 

Noel had tried to get from him the name of his 
father and the place where he lived, but, with the 
cunning of madness, Raoul would either refuse to 
answer, or try to turn him from the subject. It 
was evident that his early fear of being taken back 
home still possessed him in his delirium, and noth- 
ing that the man could do would elicit any informa- 
tion from him. In this quandary, Noel decided to 
return to Vendome, at which place he knew Raoul 
had joined the Crusaders ; from there he hoped to 
gain some clue to the boy’s identity. They had 
passed Lyons, having recrossed the River Rhone 
at that point, and pressed on at as good a pace for 
two days, when they came upon two roads, both 
seeming to be well trodden. Noel, taking the one 
which he thought would lead him back as he had 
come, past Moulin, Bourges, and Blois, had gone 
a day’s journey on it, and was hoping at every mile 
to see the walls of Moulin rise before him, for it 
had been a hard and weary day. Raoul was now 
so much worse that he could hardly hold him up- 
right on the ass’s back, and many times he seemed so 
utterly spent that Noel had taken him from his 
unsteady seat and carried him. The soft babbling 
of the delirious child made him feel more alone than 
if he had no companionship, and his anxiety was 
increasing with every hour. Even with his little 


262 


The Sign of Triumph 


knowledge of sickness, he knew that the boy was 
in danger, and, to add to his perplexity, it was grow- 
ing late and a heavy storm was brewing. The sky 
had become overcast, the black clouds dropping like 
a curtain over the yellow glare of the disappearing 
sun. Already the wind was lashing the trees, send- 
ing whirling flights of deadened leaves like birds 
of evil omen. The storm seemed about to burst 
when Noel, realizing the necessity of shelter for 
the sick child, turned from the road into the dense 
forest, where the thick branches at least offered some 
cover. He was so weary that he staggered at every 
step, and Raoul’s weight seemed to grow with every 
passing minute. The ass followed patiently at his 
heels, as he made his way between the trees, the 
gloom deepening at every step by reason of the thick 
growth and the scudding clouds which covered the 
heavens. Suddenly, in the half-darkness, his feet 
chanced upon a path. It was narrow, little worn, 
and looked, when he bent to examine it, as if it 
had not been used of late. In spite of this, it woke 
a glimmer of hope that somewhere near he might 
find better lodgings than the overhanging branches, 
and possibly a human being to bear him company, 
and give him much needed advice in regard to the 
sick boy. 

Bending often in the gloom to see that he did not 


The Sign of Triumph 263 


stray from the way, Noel hurried on to find himself 
at last before a rude door, which seemed to be the 
entrance to a cave rather than a house, for the earth 
and sod had been heaped high against its low sides, 
and its roof was a thatch of grass. Its one small 
window was closed by a heavy wooden shutter. 
Not pausing to examine the character of the shelter 
offered, Noel struck the door a resounding blow, 
and hailed the owner in a loud tone; asking cover 
for two wayfarers. There was no answer ; not 
waiting to give a second summons, he placed his 
knee against the door, giving it a violent shove with 
the expectation of resistance. It opened so suddenly 
as almost to precipitate him and his burden on the 
floor. With an effort he recovered his balance, and, 
standing upright in the narrow room, began to look 
about him. It was small and low, bare of all fur- 
nishings except a rude stool and table; a roughly 
carved crucifix hung against the wall, beneath which 
was a scourge. A bow and quiver of arrows de- 
pending from a peg, and a pile of dried grass in 
the corner, summed up the small belongings of its 
owner. Noel saw at a glance that it must be the 
dwelling of a hermit, living apart from man, and 
mortifying his body for the sin of his soul. If he 
had held any doubt before of thus entering and 
taking possession, it vanished with this knowledge, 


264 The Sign of Triumph 


for here surely the wayfarer might hope for kindly 
treatment. He first relieved his aching arms by 
laying Raoul on the bed of straw, and, pausing a 
moment, flung them wide a few times to do away 
with the numbing effect of his burden, then he began 
to hunt for food, the donkey’s panniers being empty. 
Careful search revealed nothing except the mould 
which lay thick on the leather thongs of the scourge ; 
this, with the close, damp smell which pervaded the 
air, led Noel to believe that the place had not been 
occupied for a long time. 

Satisfying himself that nothing was to be found 
within, he stepped outside where the winds were 
now lashing the trees fiercely, and the lightning was 
playing over the scene, making the darkness like 
day. He found a sheltered spot for the ass, and,, 
tethering him, lifted the empty panniers from his 
back, carrying them within. A careful search re- 
vealed nothing here save an empty drinking-cup, 
into which he gazed sorrowfully, wishing that it 
was full of good red wine to warm his heart and 
cheer his spirits. Making fast the door against the 
booming wind by placing the heavy table against 
it, he lay down in the darkness near to Raoul, and 
slept fitfully, rousing himself from time to time to 
soothe the delirious ravings of the boy and hush 
him into quiet. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


When Noel unbarred the heavy shutter the next 
morning, it was to see as fair a day as if the storm 
had not threatened overnight to tear the frail struc- 
ture from above his head, and leave him at the mercy 
of the winds. Stepping outside to fill his drinking- 
cup from a pool of rain-water, he was somewhat 
dismayed to find that the ass had broken its tether 
and strayed away, frightened by the violence of the 
storm. He dared not go to hunt it, for Raoul was 
worse, and his ravings so violent that he was obliged 
to exercise some strength in restraining him and 
keeping him on his bed. The situation was becom- 
ing very serious. He dared not leave to seek food, 
for which his stomach was crying clamorously, and 
he felt, moreover, that, unless, he could get assist- 
ance, and some drug to help him fight the disease, 
the boy must die. As it was, he could do nothing ex- 
cept to keep the child quiet and give him the water 
for which he cried almost constantly. Even while 
he did this, he had a dim recollection of having heard 
265 


266 


The Sign of Triumph 


that it was bad in a fever, and once, tormented by 
this fear, he refused it for a time, but Raoul’s cries 
were so pitiful that his resolution gave way, and 
he brought the draught, his heart lowering with 
fear as he watched the child drink it thirstily. Well 
he knew that the frail body must soon consume 
under this burning fever, if something did not allay 
it. Yet what could he do? He bethought him that 
bleeding might be good, for, if he drained away a 
part of his blood, there would be less for the fever 
to feed on. He even went to the length of baring 
the thin arm and holding his dagger over it, while 
he tried to guess the spot where he ought to prick, 
but here again his courage failed, and he dropped 
the dagger and sat gazing hopelessly before him. 

The day wore on, the boy growing worse. Noel 
had not been able to go farther than the pool at 
which he filled his drinking-cup, and his stomach 
was crying so loudly for food that it drowned all 
voices except those that spoke of fear for Raoul. 
He was beset now with another anxiety : ought the 
child to have food, and, if so, what? Was he dying 
of starvation as well as fever? As the night low- 
ered, his spirits, at no time high, were coming down 
with it, and a sense of utter desolation possessed 
him. Driven from point to point by his doubts and 
perplexities, full of fears, feeling himself no more 


The Sign of Triumph 267 

than a child in the hand of circumstance, his wan- 
dering eyes fell for a moment on the hermit’s cruci- 
fix and rested there. He gazed at the stark white 
figure suspended on the cross of black, upon the 
drops of red pigment which touched the wounded 
hands and feet with a wonderful semblance of blood, 
at the drooping thorn-crowned head, and the look 
of dying agony on the pallid face. In the half-light, 
under his fixed gaze, the figure seemed to grow and 
grow until it became life-sized, and was no more 
a representation of a long-ago fact, but a real and 
present sacrifice. The thought came slowly into 
Noel’s tormented brain that this man, who had lived 
and suffered, might be pitiful if he could but make 
him hear. He looked toward Raoul, who lay quiet 
for the instant, with closed eyes and head turned 
away, having exhausted himself in one of his peri- 
odic struggles; then he got softly to his feet, and, 
going to the cross, knelt where the hermit’s long 
vigils had left a little depression in the earth. His 
eyes fell on the scourge which hung beneath the 
cross, and he lifted it from the peg and held it in 
his hands. He did not understand why the scarring 
and wounding of a man’s body should be acceptable 
in the eyes of God, but he held himself an ignorant 
fellow in such matters, and was not minded to pit 
his opinion against priest and schoolmen. He knew 


268 


The Sign of Triumph 


that in this path of pain holy men had trodden for 
many generations, and, if the lash could wing his 
words to reach the ear of God, he would gladly 
lay it on. He put aside his upper garments, and, 
grasping the scourge firmly, laid blow upon blow 
upon his bare back. The only sound in the fast 
darkening cell was the child’s hard breathing and 
the steady rain of blows on Noel’s shrinking flesh. 
At last the latter ceased, and he hung the scourge, 
its thongs wet with blood, back upon the peg from 
which he had taken it. Feeling that he had done 
what he could to propitiate God, and make himself 
fit to draw near to Him, he clasped his hands and 
bowed his head as he had seen Raoul do, and as 
he remembered to have done in his own childhood. 

“ Fair Sir God, thou who wast once a man born 
of woman, thou who didst once walk this earth, cold, 
hungry, and naked, have mercy upon this child. 
Take not into account, I beseech thee, the sinfulness 
of him who offers this prayer, but think only upon 
the child. It hath been told me of thee that thou 
didst raise the dead to life, and miraculously provide 
bread for a hungry multitude. Do these miracles 
again, I beseech thee. Raise this child from the bed 
of death, and send him such food as he can eat.” 
Suddenly Noel’s manhood seemed to give way, and, 
covering his face with his hands, through which 


The Sign of Triumph 269 

great, hot tears trickled slowly, he finished in broken 
tones, “ Oh, spare him, Lord, spare him.” 

In that sudden breakdown, it came to him with 
a poignant sense of anguish that, in spite of the 
lashes and the worthiness of his prayer, no word 
of his could ever reach so far, and he had but spoken 
to the empty air. 

It was some time before he regained his lost self- 
control ; then he rose to his feet, and the cell being 
now in perfect darkness, felt his way back to the 
boy’s side and sat down again to his vigil. At times 
Raoul raved and tossed as wildly as ever, but the 
periods of quiet were of longer duration. This only 
caused misgivings to Noel, for he thought it was the 
coming of death. Toward morning he became so 
exhausted that, during one of these periods of quiet, 
he slipped from his upright position and lay beside 
the child in a deep sleep, from which he did not 
waken until the next day was far advanced. 

While Noel prayed before the crucifix in the her- 
mit’s cell, at Dreux Castle Alienor sat at the open 
casement in the fast coming darkness, grieving her 
heart out for her lost boy. Days had slipped into 
weeks, and hope had grown fainter with each pass- 
ing hour that brought no tidings. She no longer 
dreamed of him at night, and it had been borne in 


270 


The Sign of Triumph 


upon her that he was dead, a thought which she had 
persistently put from her at first, but which had come 
to remain. Pernell, entering with a light, found her 
mistress with head buried against her arm, crying 
like a hopeless child. Like the faithful creature she 
was, she dropped her light, and, kneeling beside 
Alienor, began to fondle her hand and beg her to 
be comforted. 

“ My lady, my lady, it rends my heart to see you 
in such sorrow, and, if thou wouldst listen to Per- 
nell, all might yet be well. But thou art such a great 
lady, mayhap thou wouldst think shame to do even 
as simple peasant folk when sorrow or denial come 
upon them.” 

“ Nay, Pernell, I am but a mother; in this there 
is no simple or great. If thou dost indeed know 
anything, any way by which I can gain knowledge 
of my child, tell it me in mercy/’ cried Alienor, yield- 
ing her hand without protest to the woman’s fond 
touch. 

“ Then listen to me, my lady. Thou dost know 
that on thy demesne there lives a holy hermit. It 
hath been the habit of the common folk hereabouts 
this long time past, if sickness, or lack, or grievous 
fear did try them, or if their kine did not calve at 
proper season, or a child came not to brighten the 
household, or death hovered near, — in sooth, in 


The Sign of Triumph 


271 


any trial, to go to the cell of the hermit, taking with 
them some simple offering of food. Kneeling be- 
fore his closed door, they prayed for their heart’s 
desire, and, my lady, thou wouldst not believe how 
oft their petitions have been granted. If thou couldst 
know as I how many have here found healing from 
sickness, of the barren women who have shortly 
become great with child, of those who have suffered 
loss and come again to their own by this simple 
means, thou wouldst go thyself without delay to the 
cell of the hermit.” The woman paused, almost 
breathless in her eagerness, her eyes taking note 
of every change in the face of her mistress. Alie- 
nor seemed to hesitate an instant, then, with a sor- 
rowful head-shake, she put an end to Pernell’s 
hopes. 

“ Nay, woman, the thing cannot be believed. 
Wouldst thou have me think that the ear of God 
is more open to prayers which ascend to Him from 
one spot than from another, and that those which I 
have put up in my closet night and morn, and such 
as Father Bernard has raised from the very altar 
steps, having gone unanswered, these will be heard ? 
’Tis past thinking, I tell thee.” 

But Pernell was not to be gainsaid, nor would 
she be stayed from pouring into her mistress’s ear 


272 The Sign of Triumph 

such tales of petitions answered that in the end the 
desperate woman gave heed. 

“ Take only simple food, my lady,” counselled 
Pernell, joyously, when she had carried her point, 
“ for such meat as the hermit doth allow himself 
he hath leave of the lords of Dreux to kill in the 
forest. Go, then, at dawn to-morrow, ere the sun 
is up, and make thy prayer, and, oh, I know, my 
lady, that God will hear thee and restore the little 
lord of Dreux.” 

Thus it was in the early morning, while Noel 
slept the heavy sleep of utter weariness, Alienor 
knelt before the door, offering her pure prayers, 
little dreaming that not ten feet distant, behind the 
closed portal, lay the very desire of her heart. 

When Noel’s tired body had satisfied itself with 
rest, he woke to find the sun high, and Raoul lying 
so quietly that his heart stood still for fear that the 
boy had died while he slept. Bending over him, he 
saw that he had fallen into an easy natural sleep. 

Moving softly toward the entrance of the cell, 
he slipped the wooden bolt and drew the door open, 
and there upon the threshold lay a pile of loaves, 
brown and fresh baked, and a jug of milk new and 
sweet. 

Noel stared at them in dazed confusion, refusing 


273 


The Sign of Triumph 

at first to believe the evidence of his own eyes. It 
was not until he had handled the bread, and his 
tongue had given its testimony as well, that he fully 
accepted the miracle. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


Two days later found Raoul so much improved 
that Noel was able to leave him and go in search 
of food, of which there was again a pressing need. 
On the morning of finding the bread and milk at 
the door, Raoul had wakened from a long sleep to 
perfect consciousness. He recognized Noel, calling 
him by name, at which the man was so full of thank- 
fulness that he was obliged to turn his twitching 
face beyond the child’s vision lest its emotion be- 
tray how great had been his fears. Although the 
boy was conscious, and the fever broken, he was so 
weak that he had not the power to raise even his 
poor, thin hand. “ And God wot,” thought Noel, 
“ ’tis light enough to be small weight even for the 
frailest.” 

He coaxed him to take a little milk, but of the 
bread he would have none, and lay with contented 
eyes fixed on Noel, who devoured two of the loaves 
without stopping. Before he finished, Raoul was 
again fast asleep, and, when Noel had drunk a 

274 


The Sign of Triumph 


275 


draught of water to wash down his meal, he lay 
down beside the boy, with a feeling of peace and 
absolute trust as to the future, and slept also. From 
the moment of finding the answer to his prayer, the 
man had become once more a child in faith and 
trust. It was as if some mighty power had forcibly 
cut away all those years of evil living, and, joining 
the new-found present to the unsoiled past, left him 
again a boy in hope and belief. There was a God, 
then, — a God whose ears were opened to the pray- 
ers of his people, even to the desires of such a sin- 
sick, doubting soul as his own. No longer need 
he wake and trouble. His watchful eye was over 
all, healing Raoul, caring for their needs. Like 
a child he fell asleep, trusting everything to the 
hand of his new-found Master. 

Through that day Noel waked and slept by turns, 
giving Raoul a little milk whenever he would take 
it, and eating ravenously of the bread himself. 
When night came, the boy was still improving, and 
hope was making Noel’s spirit courageous once 
more. 

Taking the bow from the wall the next day, he 
sallied forth to find food. The bread was all eaten, 
and but little of the milk remained, and the man’s 
healthy appetite was crying for a diet less suited to 
a monk on fast-days. When he had closed the door 


276 The Sign of Triumph 


behind him, he paused to set the bow to the earth 
and slip the string in place. Twanging it softly, 
he found that it was still fit for use, though some- 
what the worse for having hung so long unused in 
dampness. The air seemed like new wine to him 
as he crossed the little open glade before the cell, 
where the grass had already begun to yellow under 
the autumn sun, and plunged into the denser part 
of the forest, where the sunshine could only peep 
through the thick foliage, falling in patches of vir- 
gin gold, the brighter by contrast with its dark sur- 
roundings. The world seemed full of solemn still- 
ness, as if all life had been stricken from it, and 
he alone left to disturb its quiet or claim dominion 
over it. 

It was some time before he came upon any sign 
of life, and he was beginning to feel that he had 
wandered into an enchanted wood, when the sight 
of small hoof marks in the soft earth told him that 
a deer had passed that way since the rain. Follow- 
ing its trail, he discovered that another soon joined 
it, and a little further on another; he concluded 
that he was not far from a stream where the herds 
were in the habit of going to drink. This was most 
fortunate, for, without horse or dogs, his best 
chance was to stalk his game as it came to water. 

The trail led him, as he had thought, to a stream, 


The Sign of Triumph 277 

and here in a sheltering thicket he concealed himself 
to wait with as much patience as he could muster. 
It seemed to him a long time before he heard the 
sound of swift, oncoming feet, and, through a small 
break in the bushes, discovered on the other side of 
the stream, not the antlered head of a buck, but the 
soft brown mottled sides, the graceful head and 
plaintive eyes, of a half-grown doe. Before the 
beautiful creature dipped her dark muzzle into the 
water, she paused a moment, with uplifted head and 
alert look, as if she scented danger. Even as Noel 
bent his bow, his heart smote him at so unsports- 
manlike an act, but his shaft sped, and the doe 
dropped heavily on the edge of the stream, her thirst 
yet unquenched. Drawing his dagger, he bounded 
across to gash the soft throat several times, and 
finish the task which his arrow had begun. 

Binding the two hind feet together with a thong, 
he started at once to return to Raoul, dragging the 
dead animal after him. He had scarcely crossed the 
stream, leaving a trail of blood behind him, when 
faintly in the distance he heard the bay of hounds 
and the merry winding-horn making a joyous cho- 
rus. He paused, undecided. If the dogs chanced 
upon the trail of the doe which he had just killed, 
he was likely to have the pack at his heels in short 
order, and this was not the worst, for their masters 


278 The Sign of Triumph 


would follow, and he knew what he might expect 
if caught red-handed stealing deer. But, as he 
waited breathlessly, the sounds grew fainter, and 
he knew that the hunt had swept by, and the danger 
was past. He had caught up his burden, and taken 
a few steps, when he was startled by the sound of 
rhythmic hoof-beats in his rear. Thinking it might 
be a frightened, fleeing stag, he stepped aside, and 
an instant later there dashed into view a horse bear- 
ing a woman on its back. It was too late for con- 
cealment, for the animal was already splashing 
through the shallow stream. It took the little in- 
cline of the bank nearest him, and, coming on the 
trail of fresh blood which Noel’s quarry had left, 
snorted wildly, threw up its head, and dashed to 
one side with a sudden movement that would have 
unseated an inexperienced rider. Thinking the 
horse about to bolt, Noel dropped the deer, and, 
catching the animal by the bridle, held it, snorting 
and trembling. In that instant he had time to feel 
that there was something familiar in his position, as 
if this had all happened before, and, when he raised 
his eyes, he recognized that this was the same 
woman who had held his fascinated gaze at St. 
Denys, and the one whose memory had haunted him 
ever since. 

He had scarcely grasped this fact when, with 


The Sign of Triumph 


279 


flashing eyes and an angry frown, she raised her 
whip. Before he could divine her intention, she 
had laid its length across his cheek with no light 
hand. A great red welt leaped out on his face, and 
he dropped the bridle, feeling for an instant such a 
sense of maddened anger and outraged manhood 
that he could almost have been guilty of personal 
violence toward her. She, both angry and fright- 
ened, took him for some thieving fellow who meant 
her harm, but she kept her fears well under control. 

“ How now, sirrah, what do you here, stealing 
your master’s deer ? ” She pointed an accusing fin- 
ger toward the still bleeding carcass, and looked 
at Noel with sternly angry eyes. “ And, by my 
faith ! ” she added, her indignation increasing, “ thou 
hast selected for thy killing an ungrown doe, who 
hath not yet dropped a single fawn to add to the 
herd. What hinders that I tell of thy thieving at 
Dreux Castle, and have thee haled before its owner 
for thy crime? ” 

Noel’s anger burned hotter with each word. He 
forgot everything except a desire to answer her in 
kind. 

“ As to that, lady, I do not steal from my master, 
for that I know no master, and this shall keep thee 
from thy threat if I so choose,” and he caught her 
bridle again, his eyes looking angry defiance into 


28 o 


The Sign of Triumph 


hers. He saw her snatch at her hunting-horn, which 
swung from her shoulder, but, before she could raise 
it to her lips and wind a note to call assistance, he 
caught her hand and held it prisoner in his own. 
Her face whitened then, and the first gleam of fear 
showed itself in her blue eyes, but she faced him 
gallantly, though it was not until then that she had 
realized her sorry position. 

Her fright acted as a plunge into cold water on 
Noel. It put out the raging fire of anger, and left 
him ashamed and abashed at what he had done. 
He let go her hand, and dropped the bridle. Step- 
ping back, he doffed his cap, making her a sweeping 
bow. 

“ Forgive me, I was wrong. Naught holds thee 
from telling the lord of Dreux of my depredation. 
Say to him, when he desires to fetch me to my just 
deserts, that he will find me at the abandoned hut 
of the hermit, hard by in the forest, where I will 
await his coming.” 

She took no heed of the mocking tone in which 
he bade her do her worst ; she seemed only to hear 
the latter part of his speech. 

“ But the hermit, the hermit,” her hand fluttered 
almost imploringly toward him, “ what hath befallen 
the old man? Hast thou dealt foully with him?” 
Her eyes were full of dark suspicion. 


The Sign of Triumph 281 

Noel made her another bow of mock humility, 
which concealed the hurt which her question gave 
him. “ Perchance thou art right. Tis not a far 
cry from stealing a doe to rending the life from a 
holy and harmless old man.” 

She flushed, and her next question came in gen- 
tler tones : “ Where then hath he gone, what hath 
befallen him — sir ? " she uttered the last word as 
if it had been compelled from her. 

“ I know only this, that a few days ago, when 
I knocked for shelter at his portal, no answer was 
vouchsafed me, and I entered to find the dwelling 
deserted/' returned Noel, coldly. 

She gave a cry, as if some one had ruthlessly 
hurt her, and, putting her hands before her face, 
said : 

“ Then when I fetched the bread and milk on yes- 
ter morn, he was not there?" 

“ Didst thou do that act of mercy ? ” questioned 
Noel, in amazement. “ I thought the food had been 
fetched by angel hands in answer to my prayer. I 
see not why thou art so sorrowful, lady, for thy 
gracious act gave much needed food and succour to 
a sick child. I thank thee from my heart because 
of it." 

“ A child, a child, what child ? " she cried, eagerly, 


282 


The Sign of Triumph 


withdrawing her hands from her face and looking 
at him expectantly. 

Suddenly there came over Noel the thought that, 
if any cared to inquire too closely as to how he came 
by the boy, there might be trouble. Possibly he 
might be accused of stealing him, and by some in- 
terference be prevented from returning him to his 
home and his own people. Quickly glancing over 
the situation, he decided that a lie was his safest 
course. 

“ A sick child who has been almost at the door 
of death, my brother,” he answered, calmly. 

The eager look died in her face, and her slight 
figure drooped a little. There was a tearful quiver 
about her mouth when she said: 

“ I rejoice that my poor gift found such good 
use.” 

She looked at Noel curiously, a puzzled expression 
in her eyes. 

“ Have I not seen thy face before? It hath a 
familiar look to me,” she asked, after a minute of 
scrutiny. 

“ Ay, thou hast. At St. Denys, when the boy 
Stephen preached. I told thee then that we should 
meet again,” he answered, triumph sounding in his 
voice in spite of himself. 

“ Thou didst hold my restive horse, and save 


The Sign of Triumph 283 

me from having the blood of little children on my 
soul,” she cried, eagerly catching up the recollec- 
tion, “ and I have rewarded thee thus,” she made 
a motion toward his burning cheek, looking now 
very remorseful. 

Noel only bowed without answering. 

She stretched an impulsive hand toward him. 
“ I cry pardon for the unmannerly blow which I 
have laid upon thy cheek. In my anger, I mistook 
thee for a common stealer of deer.” 

Noel had caught the outstretched hand promptly. 
“ And what else am I ? ” he asked, whimsically, 
looking down at the dead deer. 

“ Some poor gentleman, I think, who hath fallen 
on evil fortunes, and whose need did justify his act,” 
she answered, gently. 

He flushed happily. “ Thanks for thy gentle 
charity,” he said, longing to kiss the hand which 
he held, but not quite daring. She met his steady 
upward gaze, which was telling her things that his 
lips dared not, and, as on that other occasion at 
St. Denys, his eyes seemed to hold hers in spite of 
her wish to turn away. It was with a distinct effort 
that she succeeded in withdrawing her glance, and 
Noel, seeing this, felt strangely elated. She kept 
her eyes from him when she asked : 

“ Hast thou no other food than this ? ” 


284 The Sign of Triumph 


“ None,” he returned, resenting her question, for, 
though he had small hesitation in killing the deer 
of the lords of Dreux, he had no mind to take alms 
of them. 

“ ’Tis but poor food for a sick child,” she an- 
swered, doubtfully. 

“ Thou shalt hear from me again,” she said, after 
a minute, and, turning her horse, rode swiftly away 
before Noel had time to stay her. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


The next day Nod sat at the door of the hermit’s 
hut, gazing over a world bathed in golden light 
and arched over by a sky of deepest blue. Since 
the day before he had walked and acted as one in 
a dream. The strange spell which had been cast 
over him in that brief encounter at St. Denys had 
reasserted itself with greater force than ever, and 
he could think of nothing else than this woman 
whom he had so strangely met a second time. 
He had forgiven the blow and forgotten the 
indignity of it, only remembering her sweeter mood. 
Raoul’s steady improvement leaving his mind free 
from anxiety, gave him more time to think of his 
late encounter. Who was she? he asked himself, 
again and again. Possibly the wife of the lord of 
Dreux, of whom she had spoken. But this thought 
was beyond bearing, and, whenever it forced its 
unwelcome presence upon him, he would start up 
and vent his irritation in quick and violent motion. 
He decided that she was daughter of a simple 

285 


286 


The Sign of Triumph 


knight, living at the castle and learning gentle arts 
under its lady, and this he believed because he 
desired to believe it, finding a hundred things to 
confirm it in her simple bearing, and the fact that 
she had not spoken of the lord of Dreux as being 
anything to her. 

While he sat dreaming and wondering whether 
her last words, “ Thou shalt hear from me again,” 
held a threat or a promise, he raised his eyes to 
see a strange procession coming down the little path 
which wound in and out amongst the great forest- 
trees. First walked the lady of his thoughts, clad 
almost as he had seen her that day at St. Denys, 
in a gown of white and the same cloak of blue, 
clasped high on the bosom with a jewelled catch, 
falling away from her figure in long, undulating 
folds. It was the first time that he had seen her 
standing, and she was taller than he had thought 
her, and her long throat and proudly set head gave 
her bearing a stateliness which he had not expected. 
Following her was a white-haired old man, whose 
bunch of jangling keys told his occupation. In his 
hand he carried a basket woven of osier twigs, which 
he shifted from time to time, as if its weight were 
all that he could bear. Behind him walked a little 
goatherd, leading a goat, whose full udders told 
that she had but lately come into milk. 


The Sign of Triumph 


287 


The woman had reached the open sunlit glade 
and was crossing it before Noel scrambled to his 
feet. He did not go toward her, but stood waiting, 
full of resentful pride. “ She takes me for a road- 
side beggar and brings me alms, me, Noel Talbot,” 
he thought, bitterly, realizing her errand. 

She drew quite near; he still had not moved, 
but stood eyeing her resentfully. She commanded 
the old man to set the basket down, and, before Noel 
could utter the angry words which had risen to his 
lips, she said, very pleadingly, sweetly, as if she 
begged him not to be ungentle with her, “ I have 
fetched such food as a sick child can eat. I fear 
that the deer which thou hast will prove too strong 
for an ill stomach, unless thou hast the means to 
distil a broth for him.” 

Her manner more than her words disarmed him. 
His defiant look changed to one less aggressive, and, 
when she had ceased speaking, he answered more 
gently than he would have thought possible a 
moment sooner: 

“ I thank thee, my lady; the child’s life is dear 
to me, and I will take with gladness aught that may 
help to restore it to vigour.” 

He noticed that she gave a little sigh as of relief, 
and at the same time bade the old man and the 
boy return to the road and await her there with 


288 The Sign of Triumph 

the horses. The goatherd, driving a pointed stake 
into the earth, tethered the animal, and followed the 
retreating figure of the old man. 

Before they had disappeared, she took a step 
forward as if to enter the hut, but Noel was quickly 
before her, barring the way with outstretched hands. 

“ Let me go in,” she commanded, in surprise. “ I 
will see if there is aught in which I can better the 
child. I have much knowledge in sickness.” 

Without moving an inch Noel shook his head 
emphatically. “ Nay, in this I must withstand thee. 
The child hath been upon a ship of late, and I 
greatly fear that the fever which he hath is of the 
kind that those who come anear are like to take 
of him. I cannot so let thee risk thyself for naught,” 
he returned, firmly. 

Her ready frown ruffled her pretty brow. “ But 
if I command thee,” she said, with added haughti- 
ness. 

“ I should not obey thee to thy hurt,” he an- 
swered, gently, without the least sign of yielding. 

Her eyes began to darken with suspicion, and her 
look wounded him, before her words made a. second 
hurt. 

“ Perchance thou hast no child in there and art 
but tricking me,” she exclaimed, hotly. 


The Sign of Triumph 289 


“ Perchance thou art right,” he answered, coldly, 
without attempting a word of defence. 

“ If I should tell thee that I am — ” but she 
did not finish the sentence begun in a flash of im- 
patient anger. Instead she turned from him and 
walked a few steps away. 

She was back in an instant, the anger and doubt 
gone, and a coaxing smile playing around her mouth. 
This time she drew close, and laid the tips of her 
fingers on his soiled and wayworn sleeve. 

“ Let me do as I will. Mayhap the refusal might 
cost thy brother his life.” Her blue eyes were raised 
beseechingly. 

At her light touch Noel’s anger fled, and the 
wound which her doubt had given him was quickly 
healed. She set his heart throbbing joyously, but 
he dared not yield. Almost without volition his 
hand had gone out, detaining the fingers on his arm. 
His eyes began to- tell her a tale that his lips dared 
not utter. 

“ Ask of me anything that thou wilt save this ; 
my life, if it pleasure thee, and see how gladly I 
will yield the sacrifice nor count it such, but do not, 
my lady, ask me to ruthlessly risk thy well-being, 
for I dare not.” 

He saw the slow blood stain her cheek under his 
steady gaze, and the same effort as yesterday to 


290 


The Sign of Triumph 


drag her glance from his. When she succeeded and 
turned from him, he could have laughed aloud in 
sheer joy that he had such power to move her. 

She gave up her point with an ill grace, and there 
was a tremulous petulance in her voice when she 
answered : 

“ I fear that thou art a very stubborn fellow, but 
since my strength cannot contend against thine, I 
must needs yield.” 

She had moved away from him in saying this, 
and he stepped quickly after her. “ Never put it 
thus, my lady; thou art well persuaded that I have 
right on my side.” 

There was such a note of triumph in his voice 
that it startled him, and she, as if she read his 
thought, and knew how all the blood was rioting 
through him, and how he longed to clasp and hold 
her, made a quick step away from him as if in 
fear. Her action had been one born more from 
fear of self than fear of him, for no one in her life 
had ever so moved her as this man. Noel, misin- 
terpreting it, was checked. 

She seemed to realize that she had betrayed her- 
self, and, when she next spoke, she avoided looking 
at him. 

“ I had this fetched,” she said, pointing to the 
goat, “ so that thou couldst have fresh milk to 


The Sign of Triumph 


291 


give the boy each day. Let the creature feed on 
the herbage hereabouts, and lead her to water regu- 
larly, and she will gratefully return, from her udders, 
enough to pay for thy small care.” 

Noel laughed softly, and gazed ruefully at the 
goat. 

“ ’Twas a well-thought plan, yet I fear it will 
come to naught, for my hand hath more knowledge 
in wielding a sword than the trick of coaxing milk 
from the dugs of a goat.” 

She turned on him with a little dismayed sound. 

“ I had not thought that thou didst not know 
how to milk the animal,” then, after a pause, dur- 
ing which she contemplated him with serious eyes, 
“ but I can teach thee.” 

“ Ay, if thou dost know the trick thyself,” he 
answered, regarding her doubtfully. 

“ That I do, right well. Many times have I 
milked my father’s kine, because there was none 
other for the task. Quick, fetch me a vessel, and 
thou shalt see that my hand hath not forgotten its 
early lessoning.” 

Noel entered the hut for his drinking-cup, while 
she gaily undid and flung from her her wide, trail- 
ing cloak, and, gathering her draperies in one hand, 
went toward the goat. Her mood, which changed 
as often as an April day, had now become as merry 


292 


The Sign of Triumph 


as a child’s, at pleasure in the task to which she 
had set herself. 

When Noel brought the cup, she stood beside the 
goat, who was unconcernedly reaching for and nib- 
bling every tempting tussock of grass near, and, 
having set the vessel between her knees, he saw her 
lips move as if she said a few words softly to 
herself. Then, seizing the teats in her white hands, 
he saw her fingers clasp them firmly with a little 
squeezing motion, and at once two well-directed 
streams of white began to hiss softly against the side 
of the vessel. He bent beside her then, and watched, 
with fascinated gaze, the softly coaxing fingers. At 
length she raised her intent face toward him. 

“ Dost think thou canst do it ? ” she questioned. 

“ It hath an easy look,” he said, with something 
of boastfulness. 

“ Take, then, my place, and give it trial,” she re- 
turned, and he saw a little derisive smile curl the 
corner of her mouth. 

He took the cup obediently, and, stooping to the 
task, found that it was not so easy to hold the 
vessel as she had done, so he set it on the ground 
beneath the goat. He caught the beast’s teats in 
his hands, and was about to begin his attempt, when 
a startled cry from her stopped him. 


The Sign of Triumph 293 

“ Stay, stay,” she exclaimed, “ thou hast not said 
‘ God and St. Bridget bless thee.’ ” 

He dropped his hand and half-rose. “ And where- 
fore should I ? ” he demanded, mystified by her 
manner. 

“ Why, thou foolish fellow, every woman knows, 
be she ever so ignorant, that if she says not this 
before she begin to milk her cow or goat, the animal 
is like to kick over the brimming pail and lose all 
its contents. Say the words as I tell thee,” she 
commanded, prettily. 

But Noel would not, shaking his head with a 
look of superiority. “ I have no faith in old wives’ 
fables,” he said, in the tone in which men generally 
rebuke the superstition of women. 

“ Then thou shalt see,” she warned, with mock 
solemnity, her eyes full of laughter, her whole look 
so entrancing that it set his heart going so that he 
scarcely knew what he was doing for desire to tell 
her how sweet she was. He stooped hastily to his 
task, lest his self-control prove too slight. Grasping 
one of the animal’s teats in each hand, he gave 
them a sudden squeeze, and watched to see the two 
soft streams shoot like arrows toward the cup. In- 
stead, no milk rewarded his effort, and the goat, 
resenting his too powerful clasp, moved viciously, 
kicking angrily, so that the cup would have been 


294 


The Sign of Triumph 


overturned, had not my lady been on the watch and 
snatched it from harm’s way. 

“ There,” she rippled, in triumphant laughter, 
“ said I not that it would be so ? Now thou shalt 
obey me and say ‘ God and St. Bridget bless thee ’ 
ere thou art let to continue thy task.” 

Standing with the milk-cup held out, her eyes 
brimming with mirth, her face aglow, she tried to 
keep her lips in lines of severity. Seeing her as 
she was, any man would have forsworn himself 
at her command, so it is little wonder that Noel, 
somewhat shamefacedly, said the words after her. 
Satisfied with her small triumph, she bent again 
beside him, saying : “ See, thou must do> it thus. 
Thou canst not rend the milk from the poor beast 
by strength, but must coax it thus and thus,” and 
he saw how her fingers closed firmly but gently, 
first above, and then down, with a persuasive touch 
which sent the white streams hissing into 1 the cup. 

“ I see,” said Noel, slowly, after watching her for 
some minutes, “ ’tis a tricksome touch which doth 
it, and I am fearful ’tis harder to learn than ever 
I dreamed.” 

Yet by perseverance he did catch the knack suffi- 
ciently to cause a feeble flow of milk, but not until 
he had much modified his grasp, under which the 


The Sign of Triumph 295 

goat was still restive, despite his propitiatory words 
to St. Bridget. 

Noel never knew how it came to pass after this, 
that with a few soft questions she set his tongue 
going. Much to his own surprise, he found him- 
self telling her things of which he had never allowed 
himself to speak, of his name and estate, of King 
John’s injustice toward him, and even of his dead 
mother. She listened with eager attention, her ex- 
pression flashing from sympathy to scorn and indig- 
nation, as his story called for it, until her face be- 
came a mirror of his feelings. And when he had 
finished, she let her hand rest a moment in his, and 
told him how her indignation burned at the thought 
of all that he had suffered, and when he in his 
madness would have said other things to her, she 
suddenly became aware that the hour was growing 
late, and that she must return without delay to the 
castle. But she let him walk beside her down the 
winding path to the road, where the servants waited 
her with the horses, and, if he lagged and went as 
slowly as he dared, trying to engage her interest 
in every passing thing, from a bright leaf to a 
belated blossom, she did not seem to notice or to 
strive to quicken his steps. 

But, loiter as he might, the road was reached 
at length, and there sat patient Marcel on his horse, 


296 The Sign of Triumph 

and the little goatherd holding the bridle of my lady’s 
jennet, which was pawing and fretting impatiently 
at the long delay. He lifted her to her seat in the 
saddle, and, having received a word of adieu, ac- 
companied by a fleeting glance from under her 
white lids, he watched the little cavalcade go down 
the road and disappear from sight around a curve. 

After this he dared not wander a minute from 
the door of the hut for fear that she might come 
in his absence. Raoul was improving steadily, and 
had come now to desire food, which Noel gave him 
often, in spite of the impatient protest of the goat. 
The child seemed to have gone back to the state 
of a new-born infant, that only desires food and 
sleep, and then more food and more sleep. As soon 
as he swallowed the milk which Noel brought, he 
would doze off and sleep quietly until hunger awak- 
ened him again. The man rested content in this, 
and gave, himself up to thoughts which made him 
glad to be alone that he might dream and dream 
with eyes wide open. The mood in which he found 
himself was as old as the world, but to him it was 
as new as if he were the first created being, and 
no one before had ever felt the slow throb of joy 
which wakened all his being into life, and showed 
him a hidden mystery and beauty in simple things. 


The Sign of Triumph 


2 97 


It was three days later before he lifted his eyes 
again to see her coming toward him through 
the forest, followed as before by Marcel bearing a 
basket. This time he rose eagerly and went to meet 
her, conscious that every line and curve of his face 
proclaimed the adoration of which his heart was full. 
Before he came near, he was subtly aware that a 
change of some sort had come over her. She seemed 
to him to hold herself in check, and walk with 
greater stateliness; even her tone, when she spoke, 
though kind, appeared to thrust him away from 
her. His pride was in arms at once. He under- 
stood, or thought that he did. He believed that 
she held herself at fault for having treated him with 
the freedom and kindliness which she had accorded 
him before. He thought that she looked on him as 
scarce better than a beggar, and that her sober 
thought bade her mark the distance between them 
with greater distinctness than she had yet done. He 
could not know that her changed demeanour was 
due to far other causes, to her startled womanhood, 
trying in this fashion to defend itself against his 
power, even while in the act of courting danger. 

Noel's tone was cold when he greeted her, and 
her inquiries after the boy he answered in as few 
words as possible. As on the other time of her 
coming, she bade Marcel set the basket near the 


298 The Sign of Triumph 


door and depart, and, as before, she made a move 
to enter the hut. Noel again barred the way. 

She frowned at him, and spoke in petulant anger. 
“ Nay, but this is folly. If the child is mending, 
as thou hast said, what harm can come of my seeing 
him? ” 

Noel paid not the slightest attention to her dis- 
pleasure. 

“ Thou canst do naught for him, and it were 
safest to stay without,” he answered, doggedly. 

“ How know I that thou hast a child there at 
all, or, perchance, if thou hast, he hath been ill 
treated, and for this thou art hiding him away ? ” 

He made no denial, nor did he let her see by 
his face how deeply her words cut him. He real- 
ized even in his anger that she did not mean all 
that her words implied, and that she was only angry 
at being denied. 

“ Maybe thou art right,” he assented. “ A ragged 
surcoat is reason enough for such suspicion in the 
mind of most,” and he glanced significantly at his 
garments. 

She flushed under this, looking ashamed, and was 
about to say a word of regret, but, at this instant, 
Raoul, who had been awakened by their voices, called 
very softly : 

“ Noel, Noel.” 


The Sign of Triumph 


299 


He turned instantly, never dreaming that she 
would attempt to follow him. He was almost at 
Raoul’s side, when a slight rustle behind warned 
him of her presence. He wheeled quickly, to find 
her standing defiantly before him, her head up, her 
eyes bright with challenge. She knew him very 
poorly if she thought to stay him, for he had least 
fear of her when she was angry or defiant. It was 
in her gentler moments, that, feeling himself far off 
and unworthy, he became shy. She had no power 
to stir fear within him, and when her temper fired 
he instantly became master of himself and her. Not 
pausing for a word then, he lifted her in his arms, 
strode through the door, and, setting her down, drew 
it together behind him. 

She stood for a moment speechless with anger 
and amazement, then, regaining the use of her 
tongue, she began, almost stammering from rage : 

“ Thou — thou malapert fellow ! How didst thou 
dare ? ” 

“ Nay, thou wert but a featherweight, my lady,” 
he said, purposely misunderstanding her, then, see- 
ing that she made as if to brush at the place where 
his hands had held her, he gave his shoulders a 
shrug. “ I would I had wherewith to wipe the 
contamination of my touch from thy person.” 

“ Thou canst not,” she answered, angered still 


300 The Sign of Triumph 

more because of his seeming indifference to her 
scorn, “ the soil of it will remain.” 

Noel gave a mocking little bow, and a word of 
sorrow for her plight. 

She turned from him, with head held higher than 
ever, if that were possible, and took her way toward 
the path. He stepped out to accompany her, but 
she waved him back with angry scorn, and, not 
wishing to let her see that she could move him, 
he obeyed promptly, and, returning to the hut, en- 
tered and shut the door. She stumbled on, her anger 
beginning to give place to tears, without abating her 
resentment in the least. Indeed, as conscience began 
to point out to her that her action had been both 
unkind and unworthy, she felt her dislike of him 
increasing. She even resented it that he had obeyed 
her and returned to the hut, instead of making her 
hear reason and say she was sorry, as she wanted 
to do with all her heart. 

When Noel closed the door behind him, he found 
Raoul sitting up on his straw pallet, watching the 
entrance with eager eyes, whose look of excitement 
gave the man a momentary fear. 

“ Who spoke with thee, Noel? ” he asked, catch- 
ing his arm in a feeble clutch, as the man sat down 
and attempted to soothe him. “ I thought I heard 
my mother’s voice.” 


The Sign of Triumph 


301 


“ Nay, lad, ’twas not thy mother, or indeed the 
mother of any,” answered Noel, confidently. “ Lie 
still and sleep, and soon I will take thee to thy 
mother — as soon as thou dost grow strong enough.” 
At which the boy lay back with a disappointed sigh, 
and soon closed his eyes. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


After that day she came no more, and a rest- 
lessness possessed Noel, which made staying in one 
spot almost unbearable. In the reaction which had 
come after his last interview with her, he cursed 
himself for a churlish, ill-tempered fool, and feared 
that, if he saw her again, — and well he knew that 
he would, — she would scorn him, and refuse to 
forgive his temerity. But after a time he recalled, 
with a heart-throb at each recollection, the power 
of his glance to move her, and he knew, in spite 
of her rebellion and anger, that she was his, and 
that some day he would claim and hold her against 
the whole world, even against herself. Yet this 
seemed so far distant to his impatient spirit, that 
at times he felt that he must descend upon Dreux 
Castle and carry her off without more ado. He 
was more than ever satisfied — or he thought he 
was — that she was the daughter of some humble 
knight living at the castle. If the richness of her 
clothing and the haughtiness of bearing seemed to 


The Sign of Triumph 


303 


deny his theory, he deliberately thrust the thought 
from him, feeling that the distance between them 
was great enough as it was, and refusing to dampen 
his hopes by thinking it greater. So he blinded 
himself even while pretending to face the matter 
fairly. He wondered that he had never asked her 
of herself and her life, but there had always seemed 
so much to say, and her visits had been as brief as 
a breath to him. 

The days dragged slowly. He dared not leave the 
hut or go any distance, for the hope that she might 
repent her anger and return. All the time which was 
not spent in caring for Raoul, he sat in the doorway 
or wandered down the little twisting path where he 
had last seen her disappear, her blue mantle trailing 
over the deadened and fallen leaves, her head held 
with the pride of offended majesty. He would go 
as far as the road where the horses had waited her, 
and where he had been allowed to lift her into the 
saddle, — touching her fingers deliciously in placing 
the bridle between them, — and there he would gaze 
up and down the dusty highway. Up in the direc- 
tion of the castle, where the road soon took a short 
turn and was lost to view ; down to where it stretched 
away, ever narrowing its tree-bordered width, until 
it dwindled and ceased to be, on the far edge of the 
sky-line. But all the staring that he could do brought 


304 The Sign of Triumph 

him nothing for his pains, no glimmer of a blue 
mantle, nor sight of a proudly set head. When he 
had gazed his full on the silent, deserted road, he 
would sigh and retrace his steps, chafing with im- 
patience at the slow-going days. 

There was another matter that took much of his 
thought during this time, and had his feeling for 
this woman been one whit less strong than it was, 
it must have gone down like a house of cards before 
his love for Raoul, and his realization that this new 
complication must separate him from the child. 
When he contemplated resigning the boy to the care 
of others, turning away from those faithful eyes, and 
unclasping those dear small hands from his heart, it 
seemed a thing for which he had not the strength. 
There were times when he hoped that memory would 
not be completely restored, so that he might honestly 
keep the child, but he put this thought from him 
as selfish and unworthy, for he saw that in it he 
was loving himself rather than the boy. So he held 
his mind to the thing which he had undertaken : to 
seek out Raoul’s home and restore him to it, then 
— but beyond this his thoughts could never go. He 
only knew that, come what would, he must turn 
his face toward Dreux Castle. 

Thus the days slipped by, and never, Noel thought, 
had summer seemed to leave the earth with such 


The Sign of Triumph 


305 


reluctant tenderness. It went as a lover, who re- 
turns again and yet again for another kiss, and 
each caress seemed to hold in it as much of sadness 
as of satisfaction. It was as if the passing season, 
while drawn by the beauty of his mistress, saw in 
her also a prophecy of decay, and knew that the part- 
ing was not for a night, but for an eternity. Other 
summers might woo the earth to rejuvenescence, 
but never again could this one return, or, returning, 
find her the same. And each of these soft days, 
which came like a kiss on the brown face of nature, 
held for Noel its dreams, its pains, and struggles. 

Raoul’s strength had so far returned that he was 
able to take a few trembling steps without assistance, 
and to sit for short intervals each day in the door- 
way beside Noel, well wrapped about with his cloak, 
for the days which seemed so warm to the man had 
a chill for the bloodless body of the child. 

They were sitting thus one day, very quietly, for 
Raoul seemed little inclined for speech at any time 
now, and often had in his big eyes a look of sad- 
ness which hurt Noel to see. He seemed to be 
looking always on those painful scenes through 
which he had passed, and often he would sigh and 
turn his head weakly, as if to rid himself from fret- 
ting thoughts. Noel was very guarded in his speech 
during this time, for, as the boy had never referred 


306 The Sign of Triumph 

to the Crusade or anything in connection with it, 
he feared, by recalling it, to upset his lately gained 
reason. After the child had been silent a few min- 
utes, he reached toward Noel, and, slipping his hand 
into his, said, “ Noel, take me to my home.” 

Noel’s fingers closed quickly over the frail ones. 
He was startled by the suddenness of the request. 

“ I know not where your home is,” he answered, 
gently, almost expecting to see again that cunning 
look with which Raoul had tried to evade this 
question during the beginning of his illness. He 
need have had no such thought; the boy was alto- 
gether sane, though, in the instant of his answering, 
Noel thought that one of them must be mad. 

“ It lies on the borderland, where the county 
of Nevers joins the Duchy of Burgundy, and is 
called Dreux Castle. My grandsire, Sir Tristan 
de Dreux, holds the fief of the Count of Nevers. 
Dost thou know where we now are, Noel ? How far 
distant from that place? ” 

Forgetful in his amazement of the effect which 
his news might have on Raoul, Noel blurted out : 

“ By the bones of St. Denys, the saints must 
have guided our wandering feet, for we are even 
now on the demesne of that castle. After passing 
Lyons, I must have missed the way, for when I 


The Sign of Triumph 307 

thought to have been at Moulin, I found myself 
here.” 

Before he had finished speaking, the boy had 
turned ghastly white, and for an instant Noel 
thought the shock of joy had killed him. He caught 
him remorsefully in his arms, begging him not to 
die, and covering himself with reproach for his 
carelessness. The first effect of the shock passed 
in a few seconds, but it left the child still trembling 
with excitement, and sobbing weakly. 

“ Take me home, take me home now,” he kept 
reiterating in a choked voice, Noel trying the while 
to soothe him. 

“ But thou art too> weak to walk, Raoul. Thou 
shalt lie here and wait until I go to the castle and 
tell the news, and they will send a litter and several 
stout fellows to bear thee in comfort over these few 
miles.” 

But he would not hear to this. With the double 
impatience of childhood and illness, he either would 
not or could not wait. So it ended in Noel wrap- 
ping him in his cloak, and without more ado setting 
out for the castle. He could feel Raoul’s frail 
body quiver in his arms; during all the first part 
of their journey he babbled ceaselessly, and two 
patches of red burned in his cheeks, as they had done 
during the days of his illness. Noel was so full 


308 The Sign of Triumph 

of his own thoughts, which were mixed with equal 
parts of joy, anticipation, and fear, that he might 
have been deaf, for all he understood of Raoul’s 
talk. His first thought was, that now he might see 
the woman whose image was ever with him, his 
second, joy, that now he need no longer fear sep- 
aration from the boy, and his last, dread as to what 
she would say when she knew of the lie which he had 
told her. Added to this was remorse, that by that 
foolish lie he had kept the boy away from his home 
for full two weeks. A feeling very near to awe 
came over him in remembering how he had been 
led to the very spot which he sought, and when he 
recalled the food brought for the child’s succour 
from the home where he was doubtless mourned as 
dead, he felt that it was little short of a miracle. 

He was obliged to pause every little while to ease 
his stiffened arms, for Raoul’s figure, though wasted, 
was still a heavy weight to carry such a distance. 
But whenever he made a pause the boy’s impatience 
pushed him on, scarcely allowing him more than 
a decent breathing-space. 

The sun burned hotly on his back, and the dust 
of the roadway spurted under his feet and floated 
softly upward, adding dinginess to their already 
wayworn apparel. 

When they reached the turn in the road, they 


The Sign of Triumph 


309 


could see the way stretch ahead, until it divided 
itself about the base of a steep, rocky promontory 
which stood out boldly against the sky, crowned 
by the battlements and turrets of Dreux Castle. 
The roadway, hugging the steep side of the rock, 
rose slowly up and up until it reached the plateau 
above, where one branch of it ended before the castle 
gate, and the other ran on to the little hamlet be- 
yond. Long before reaching this place, when they 
began their weary climb, Noel could see that every 
turret and tower was gay with fluttering banner or 
pennon, and he knew that it must be a gala-time 
within, though he was far from guessing the occa- 
sion of the festivity. Up the rocky way he toiled, 
his arms aching, Raoul’s excited talk breaking out 
anew at sight of the familiar scene. 

“ Look, look, Noel, how it hangs like an eagle 
on a crag. ’Tis a fair sight, is Dreux, and thou 
shalt see a fairer in beholding my mother. Ah, 
how thou wilt love her, Noel; ’tis so with all who 
come anear her,” he cried, boastfully. 

At last they reached the plateau and turned 
toward the gate, to find, all about outside, gay tents 
pitched, each with a pennon fluttering in the morn- 
ing breeze. The draw was down, the portcullis up, 
and in and out swarmed men-at-arms, bowmen, 
pikemen, villagers, beggars, jugglers, and tatterde- 


310 The Sign of Triumph 

malions. The soldiers were in three different liv- 
eries, which added much to the gay scene, and told 
Noel that two lords and their followers were at 
the castle beside the men of Dreux. In an open 
space before the gate several trenches had been dug, 
and, over these, with a heavy stake driven through 
the bodies of the animals, oxen, sheep, and pigs 
were roasting like birds on a spit. The air was 
heavy with the appetizing odour of cooking meat. 
Through the deep archway of the gate a gay crowd 
could be seen filling the bailey, the women mingling 
in and bearing their part in much rude and open 
love-making, and in the burst of uproarious mirth 
which followed upon any sally, however feeble. 
Long tables were spread upon tressels, and on these 
cup and flagon were already being set, and great 
piles of brown loaves fresh from the oven, beside 
kings’ cakes and cheese. And there was godale, 
cervoise, mead, and small beer in abundance. The 
very air reeked with good things, and one lean and 
hungry fellow declared himself afraid to breathe it, 
lest he surfeit his appetite before the feast began. 

Noel noted all this as he came near, and, pushing 
through the good-natured crowd, crossed the draw, 
and stood before the gate-warder, whose task to-day 
was little else than to exchange a jovial word or 
jest with incomer and outgoer. He was a great 


The Sign of Triumph 31 1 

heavy-set giant of a fellow, and beamed on Noel 
with little twinkling eyes, whose light had been 
partly set burning by generous draughts of morn- 
ing ale. Before Noel could address him, he 
offered a good-natured greeting. 

“ Thou art well come, fellow, thou, and any of 
thy sort. Dreux keeps open doors to-day, and my 
lady hath given orders that not even the meanest 
shall go from her gate till they be well eaten and 
drunken. Come within, thou and thy brat,” and 
he put a kindly encouraging hand on Noel’s shoulder. 
With an angry frown the other shook off his touch. 

“ Be not so free in offering the hospitality of thy 
betters, fellow, and have a care to whom thou dost 
make thy proffer. I came to Dreux, not to take 
from it, but to give to it,” Noel answered, haughtily. 

At this the man laughed derisively, and a little 
knot of curiosity-seekers gathered about the two, 
eager to know what was the reason for such merri- 
ment. 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! Ho, ho, ho ! ” roared the giant, 
while the crowd caught it up for very infection. 
“ Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! He saith that he is a 
bearer of gifts to Dreux, and not a beggar of my 
lady’s bounty. Perchance he is minded to offer his 
ragged cote-hardie to the new lord of the castle.” 

Noel, beside himself with rage at this insult, 


312 


The Sign of Triumph 


longed for a free hand, but Raoul was still burden- 
ing his stiff arms, and he could but stamp in anger, 
and bid the man give heed to what he had to say. 

“ I wish to speak with the lady of Dreux at once/’ 
he demanded, sternly. 

This brought another burst of merriment from 
the crowd, while the warder beat his hands together 
and stamped with excess of mirth, repeating the 
words again and again as if they contained some- 
thing mightily funny. “ He wishes to see the lady 
of Dreux at once, he wishes to see the lady of Dreux 
at once,” imitating Noel’s haughty manner. 

When he could get his breath again, he began, 
in mocking tone : 

“ Good sir, if my lady but knew, I doubt not 
that she would most gladly receive thee, but on the 
instant she hath other business so weighty, she can- 
not now give audience even to such distinguished 
visitors.” 

At this there was another burst of laughter. Noel, 
nearly beside himself with rage, shouted : 

“ Thou impudent fool, thou shalt pay for this. 
Take me to the chatelaine of Dreux, or to Sir Tris- 
tan, for I do tell thee that there is naught of such 
vast import that they will not gladly stop to hear 
the tidings that I bring.” 

“ If thou wouldst see Sir Tristan, go look for 


The Sign of Triumph 


313 


him ’neath the chapel vault, where he hath been 
rotting this many a day ; as for my lady, she attends 
the investiture of Arnold de Guynes into this fief, 
which for generations hath been held by a Dreux. 
God pity that it should be like this; yet, mayhap, 
my lady will wed with the knight despite her nay, 
for a woman’s nay is ever yea, if a man but stick 
to the thing long enough.” 

“ Man, man, take me to her without delay; I 
bring the lost child, Raoul de Dreux, and they are 
even now snatching his heritage from him,” cried 
Noel, realizing at once the imperative need of haste, 
and forgetting even his anger in his anxiety. 

“ And mayhap that beggar’s brat in thine arms 
is to be palmed off as our little lord,” he was be- 
ginning, contemptuously, when Raoul raised him- 
self in Noel’s arms, and, clinging feebly to his shoul- 
der, said, commandingly : 

“ Have a care, Jacques Duchie, how thou dost 
name thy master.” 

At this the great fellow stood with mouth agape, 
staring into the small, pale face, joy and wonder 
chasing each other across his countenance in quick 
succession. Then he began to splutter and gasp, 
his very happiness rendering him well-nigh speech- 
less. He tried to take the child into his arms, but 


3H 


The Sign of Triumph 


this he was not allowed to do, Noel fearing that in 
his vigorous health and excessive gladness he might 
hurt the tender body in which there was still so 
little strength. Failing this, the big fellow circled 
both Noel and the boy in a bear like embrace, while 
tears of happiness and godale flowed down his 
weather-worn cheeks. 

Feeling that there was no time for such folly, 
Noel shook the man off impatiently, bidding him 
cease his womanish behaviour and take him to the 
lady of Dreux. “ Fool, dost thou not see that there 
is not a moment to lose if the boy’s heritage is to be 
saved from another’s clutch? Take me to her this 
instant, or, by the bones of St. Denys, my sword 
shall put an end to thy fooling.” 

It was not the threat which sobered the jolly 
giant, but the danger which Noel had at last suc- 
ceeded in pushing home to his dull brain. 

“ Thou hast the right of it, master,” he cried, and 
forthwith forsaking his guard at the gate, he grasped 
Noel’s arm, almost dragging him across the bailey 
and through the castle gate. The news spread at 
every step, the party gaining recruits until it was 
a laughing, shouting, onrushing body, which pushed 
and pressed so in the rear, that any who tried to 
stay its passage were thrust aside like straws. Noel, 


3i5 


The Sign of Triumph 

with the boy in his arms, and Duchie grasping him, 
was shoved through the outer doorway of the castle, 
down the corridor, and up to the very guarded en- 
trance of the great hall. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


The days which had lagged so slowly for Noel 
had flown for Alienor de Dreux, each hour bringing 
her nearer to the limit of time which Nevers had 
reluctantly allowed for the recovery of Raoul. In- 
deed, after her disappointment in regard to the her- 
mit, she had given up hope, and set herself to prep- 
arations for the coming of the new lord and her 
own departure; for she had not wavered an instant 
in her determination to go rather than wed Arnold 
de Guynes. Her only refuge when she left Dreux 
was with her sister, who had married a poor knight 
and dwelt most humbly in the vicinity of Paris. 

Three days before the time for her departure came 
the Count de Nevers and Arnold de Guynes, to find 
that, not only were all things in readiness for the 
new master, but that my lady’s coffers were filled 
with her apparel and small belongings, and a little 
cavalcade ready to take the road as soon as the 
investiture and feasting were at an end. 

On the arrival of De Nevers, when, followed by 
316 


The Sign of Triumph 


317 


De Guynes, he clattered into the hall where Alienor 
stood waiting to give them welcome, his greeting 
was most characteristic. 

“ Well, fair termagant,” he said, “ hast thou come 
to reason yet, and art willing to take this lusty 
fellow for thy lord, instead of going forth to home- 
less beggary ? ” 

“Nay, my lord, not yet; nor do I hold thee 
right in naming me reasonless in acting thus. 
Dreux is too poor a price for which to barter liberty,” 
she answered, meeting his look of displeasure with 
prettily defiant smile. 

It was easy to see that De Guynes, though look- 
ing at her for the first time, had not escaped the 
spell which she so quickly threw over all men. De 
Nevers, watching him, was not ill-pleased to see 
another burn himself where he had been singed. 

“ Thou art right, my lady, Dreux is all too little 
to give in exchange for thyself, yet if a faithful 
heart fell into the balance beside it, might it then not 
weigh enough ? ” questioned Sir Arnold, letting his 
growing admiration show in his eyes. 

She shook her head, and, still smiling, made a 
little deprecatory movement of her hands. “ I beg 
you to know, sir, I do not underestimate the worth 
of the boot which thou dost offer, but the worth 
of a heart in love’s mart is only that which the 


318 The Sign of Triumph 

buyer doth set upon it, and what is of value beyond 
price to one hath not the worth of a pebble to 
another. Beside the which,” she glanced at him 
from beneath her dark lashes in a way to set any 
man’s heart beating, “ if I did hearken to thy wish 
and strike such a bargain, how long dost think it 
would be ere thou make demand for my heart, which 
giving would lose me my little advantage ? ” 

He met her jest with a grave eagerness that would 
not let itself be tricked into a smile. 

“ Dreux is of little worth if thou dost take the 
fairest thing within its walls away,” he burst out, 
ardently. “ Keep Dreux and give me thyself, and 
I will count me well portioned.” 

At this she broke into the merriest laughter, in 
which the count joined with his fat chuckle. 

“ Good, my lord,” she exclaimed, banteringly, “ I 
fear thou art a very Jew at a bargain, for then 
wouldst thou, having me, have Dreux as well, and I 
would find myself the loser of all, while thou hadst 
gained everything.” 

He laughed ruefully at himself then, for he had 
been so in earnest that he had failed to see the 
advantage of his offer. 

The count clapped him jovially on the shoulder. 
“ ’Tis little use to talk to her, Arnold. She may 
know her master some day, but the very god of 


The Sign of Triumph 


319 


love himself will have to arm the man before he 
conquer, and I have some doubts even so of his 
victory.” At this, Alienor began to grow red, she 
scarcely knew why herself. 

The last three days of her reign at Dreux slipped 
rapidly away, and the morning of her abdication 
arrived. The rising sun showed every turret and 
peak of the castle fluttering its gala signal on the 
breeze. The cellars had given up their best, and the 
storehouses poured out good cheer as they would 
have done had her son been about to take the oath 
of fidelity instead of this stranger. 

And Alienor’s bearing was in keeping with all 
this, for never by word or look did she betray that 
her heart was heavy, or that she had any regrets. 
Pernell arrayed her in her finest gown of white cen- 
dal embroidered with silver fleur-de-lis, and put on 
her head the delicate white couvre-chef held in place 
by a tressor of pearls. She wore a heavily jewelled 
belt at her waist, the long pendent end of which 
swayed and glittered as she moved, dazzling the eyes 
by its many lights. 

If, standing beside her window, she looked out 
over the fluttering banners, and let her eyes linger 
sorrowfully on the familiar outline ol roof and bat- 
tlement, thinking of the years of peace which she 
had known within these walls, and of the little son 


320 


The Sign of Triumph 


whom she had lost, not even her tirewoman could 
read anything of her thought when she turned again, 
for she was determined that if she must go, she 
would go proudly. Despite the fact that there was 
SO' much to make this hour sorrowful for her, one 
little ever-recurring thought would rise and set her 
heart beating, moving her to anticipations of — she 
knew not what. “ To-morrow as I leave the castle,” 
something within would say again and again, “ I 
will ride by the path which leads to the hermit's 
hut, and I will be as homeless as he.” 

The morning was well on when there sounded 
through the castle three heavy strokes from the metal 
disc in the great hall, which told Alienor de Dreux 
that the last hour of her rule had come, and bade 
her, with such grace as she could, answer the sum- 
mons to resign her authority. Very calmly she de- 
scended the narrow winding stair from her chamber, 
and with stately step entered the hall. Here the 
guard of her own men separated to let her pass, 
saluting her as if she had been a soldier. A little 
added colour flashed into her cheeks at this, and her 
quick glance swept down the line, resting an instant 
on each face, as if in farewell. Both mistress and 
men, in that brief act and its answer, were carried 
back into the midst of an unequal struggle before a 


The Sign of Triumph 


321 


breached wall, and, in it, each gave the other his 
meed of praise. 

“ God keep thee, my lady/’ broke forth one, for- 
getful of everything except that she whom they 
loved and honoured, and would gladly have followed, 
was about to go forth homeless and dispossessed. 

Every eye was upon her as she walked, a solitary 
figure, down the long stretch of the hall, toward 
the dais, on the right of which already stood the 
Count de Nevers. Behind him were the knights and 
squires, the ladies and pages of the castle, bright in 
their gayest attire, while on the left were gathered 
the knights and squires of the count. On one side 
of the hall were ranged the men-at-arms of Dreux, 
on the other those of Nevers. 

Every eye of that assemblage took note of her 
expression, trying to weigh and measure the feeling 
which moved her at that moment, and though she 
knew that for the most part this was a gentle and 
loving curiosity, yet her pride would not allow her 
to show, even to these, the pain which she felt when 
the sound of her own footfalls seemed to echo dully 
back to her, saying, “ Never again, never again to 
walk here as mistress.” 

Nevers stepped down from the dais, and, coming 
half-way to meet her, led her by the hand to a place 
beside his. She met him with an easy smile and 


322 The Sign of Triumph 

some word said in undertone which quickly set him 
chuckling. She had but reached her place and turned 
to look over the long hall and its many strange faces, 
when Arnold de Guynes entered, followed by his 
four squires and a small body of men-at-arms. As 
he walked, his spurs made a gay little jingle which 
sounded loudly in the absolute quiet of the place. 
His eyes were fixed, not on the face of the lord to 
whom he was about to swear fealty and do homage, 
but on that of the woman at De Nevers’s side. In 
front of De Nevers he paused with head still 
covered, and waited, his four squires back of him, 
his small company of men-at-arms drawn up behind 
them. 

“ Arnold de Guynes,” the count’s voice greeted 
him, solemnly, “ it hath been our purpose in com- 
manding thee hither, to bestow upon thee the castle 
and fief of Dreux, which is escheated to us through 
the death of its lawful heir. Art thou ready to do 
homage and fealty for this tenure? ” 

“ I am ready, my lord, to take the oath and faith- 
fully to perform the same,” he answered, his eyes 
still fixed on Alienor’s face. 

At this his squires stepped forward and began to 
undo and make him ready. One kneeled and loos- 
ened the spurs from his heels, another unfastened his 
belt, another took his sword from its scabbard, and, 


323 


The Sign of Triumph 

uncovering his head, he gave his cap into the hands 
of a fourth. Stepping forward then, he kneeled be- 
fore De Nevers, and, laying his two palms together, 
placed them between the count’s hands. 

“ In the name of the Father, the Son, and the 
Holy Ghost, I place my hands between the hands 
of my liege lord, Thibaut, Count de Nevers, and do 
swear to be his man from this day forward, to- serve 
him with life, limb, and worldly honour, faithfully 
and loyally, as becometh me, in consideration of the 
lands which I do hold of him.” Rising, he placed 
one arm over, one arm under those of De Nevers, 
and saluted him upon the cheek. 

He had kneeled a second time to take the oath 
of fealty, when a murmur like the buzzing of an enor- 
mous hive of bees sounded outside, intermingled 
with sharp cries and some words of altercation. The 
noise swelled and swelled until it became a roar, and 
the guard at the door giving way before the pres- 
sure, Noel Talbot, still carrying Raoul in his arms, 
was pushed into the hall. So irresistible had the 
press of the excited crowd become, that he had no 
choice but to go' forward, driven by the force in his 
rear. He could not so much as guide his steps, and 
was pushed in the direction of the dais without any 
realization of where he was going. The excitement 
of the incoming crowd broke out now in cries and 


324 


The Sign of Triumph 


shouts, and some foolish person uttered the “ Dreux, 
se garde ” which the others caught up, and this 
sudden advance seemed in an instant to have become 
a threatening onslaught. 

At least this was the appearance it had to the 
count and his followers, for without hesitation every 
knight sprung forward with drawn sword, ranging 
themselves before him, while his men-at-arms, wheel- 
ing swiftly from their place against the wall, inter- 
posed a threatening line of pikes and halberds before 
the oncoming crowd. Still the noise and hubbub 
at the rear continued, and the press threatened to 
shove forward those in the front and spit them on 
the glittering row of weapons which barred the way. 
It was a critical moment, for in an instant the count’s 
men would have precipitated themselves upon the 
unarmed rabble, fully persuaded that this was an 
attempt on their master’s life, or a rebellion against 
his authority. 

Alienor, alone seeing the danger, had presence of 
mind to meet it. She sprung from her place and, 
seizing the heavy stick, sounded the great gong, 
suddenly bringing the people to dead silence. Then 
her voice rang out with no uncertain tone. 

“ Withhold your men, my lord count, there is 
some mistake here. The men of Dreux are loyal, and 
thou needst have no fear of them,” then, to the surg- 


The Sign of Triumph 


325 


in g, excited mob, “ My people, what means this un- 
seemly riot at such an hour? ” 

Before the words had fallen from her lips, the 
hubbub broke out again, every one trying to give 
an explanation, and some shouting the name of 
Raoul. 

Again she struck the gong and commanded silence, 
and, when she had been obeyed, seeing Jacques 
Duchie’s tall head above the crowd, she called him 
by name. 

“ Command your men, my lord, to let him 
through/’ she said to De Nevers; then, to Duchie, 

“ Come forward, sirrah, and see if thy tongue can 
utter something beside this babble, of which no man’s a 
ear can take account.” 

But when the guard moved cautiously to allow 
Duchie to pass, it was Noel who took advantage of 
the narrow opening and attempted to go through. 
At this, one of the pikemen stopped him. 

“ Of what art thou afraid ? ” he exclaimed, indig- 
nantly. “ Of a man and a sick child ? Let me pass, 
thou coward. What harm can I, thus burdened, do 
to any ? ” 

At this the man moved back sullenly, convinced, 
yet not altogether liking to give way. Noel passed 
through the narrow lane which was opened to him, 
and stood before the dais. Raoul was shivering with 


326 The Sign of Triumph 

excitement when he set him on his feet. Then every- 
thing happened so quickly that he could scarcely take 
account of it. He saw the boy stretch out his trem- 
bling arms, heard his weak cry of “ Mother, mother,” 
then he saw him snatched to the heart of a woman, 
and the mother-cry which she gave as she folded 
him close, and the look of adoring love on her face, 
stabbed him with a fierce, jealous pain, for Raoul’s 
mother was the woman that he loved. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


After this the confusion was so 1 great that Noel 
scarcely knew what happened. Raoul, half-fainting 
from excitement, was borne from the hall in his 
mother’s arms, she refusing to let any one touch 
him lest he fade from her sight, for she could not 
yet believe him real. The place was abuzz with 
laughter and eager question. Everybody talked and 
nobody listened, until the noise became almost beyond 
bearing. 

No sooner had Noel recognized Alienor than his 
one thought was to be gone. His heart was full 
of mad, unreasoning jealousy. When he recalled 
the look which she had given her boy, rage tore 
him that she could gaze thus with such love-fraught 
eyes on any one save himself, and that that one 
should be her child by another man. He felt that 
her love for the boy must include her love for her 
husband, and he was jealous of the man who had 
been dead this many a year. Besides this, he counted 
himself duped, for he had been sure that she was a 
3 2 7 


328 The Sign of Triumph 


maid, and one whose degree was not so great as to 
make it impossible, after he had redeemed himself, to 
aspire to her. Instead he found her a mother, with 
the sweet lesson which he longed to teach her already 
learned. His reason told him that he had duped 
himself, and that almost wilfully, for he had blinded 
himself to indications which should have made him 
aware that she was not the simple and poor maiden 
he believed her. As to her widowhood and mother- 
hood, if she had been silent about these, there was 
little wonder, seeing how little speech he had ever 
held with her. Yet, though his sense of justice told 
him all this, he felt angered and injured. All his 
bright hopes were in the dust once more and for ever, 
and there remained nothing for him except to go 
as swiftly as possible, and learn in time such for- 
getting as he could. But even as he thought this, 
he had small hope of success, for her mocking image 
would rise before him as if she defied him to forget 
her. But at least he could go, and go before her 
gratitude for his care of the boy caused her to offer 
him thanks or compensation. He who demanded 
all, could scarcely bring himself to wait about for 
the crumb which she might be willing to cast him. 

With this in mind he pushed slowly through the 
packed hall, and, making his way out the castle door, 
reached the gate leading into the bailey. He had no 


The Sign of Triumph 


329 


sorrow at stealing away thus without another sight 
of the boy, for, in the first burst of his jealous anger, 
he almost hated Raoul. 

When he tried to pass the gate to the outer court, 
the guard — who had but that instant finished speak- 
ing with a woman who hurried past and reentered the 
castle — put out his pike to stop him. 

“ Nay, thou canst not leave; ’tis my lady’s order,” 
said the man, in explanation. 

“ Stand aside,” returned Noel, angrily, “ T am no 
henchman of your lady, to take commands of her or 
any. I came here free, and I demand the right to 
depart as I will.” 

“ Thy words are true, sir,” he answered, respect- 
fully, yet without moving, “ but I am my lady’s 
henchman, and her commands bind me. She hath 
just sent me a. message by yonder wench that thou 
art to be detained within the castle walls.” 

At this Noel became so angry that for a moment 
he contemplated putting the guard aside by force, 
but, realizing that with so> many near to uphold his 
authority he had no chance, he turned sullenly away 
and began to pace the court. Why had she done 
this thing? Was he to be insulted by an offer of 
reward, or brought to answer for having kept the 
boy from her for two weeks longer than need be? 
He cared little one way or the other, his one thought 


330 


The Sign of Triumph 


being to avoid another sight of the face which must 
for ever be a torment to him. After taking a few 
turns up and down the court, he remembered a gold 
piece which was all that was left to him of his last 
winning at the gaming-table. He took it from his 
pouch, and, going to the gate a second time, showed 
the glint of the yellow coin in his half-opened palm. 

“ Thy mistress will never know that I did not 
slip out before her command was given to thee, and 
a gold piece hath many pleasures locked in its yellow 
sides,” he said, persuasively. 

The warder eyed the coin longingly, but he shook 
his head. 

“If thou didst have such a gallant mistress as 
I, sir, thou wouldst not cross her will for gold. We 
who serve her, love her.” 

Noel’s heart gave a little leap of pleasure despite 
himself, yet he felt angered at his failure. 

He began to pace the court again. By and by, 
seeing in the wall a door which stood ajar, he pushed 
it open and entered, hoping to find some means of 
egress. But it only led into a walled garden or small 
pleasance, which he soon discovered had no other 
outlet than the one through which he had passed. 
Moodily treading the hedge-bordered path, he noted 
how the frost had laid its blighting finger on the 
tender blossoms, and how the dead leaves, loosened 


The Sign of Triumph 


331 


in the warm breeze, dropped softly, floating aimlessly 
before they found a final resting-place. His feet 
made a crisp rustle amidst the dry ones underfoot, 
and the sound saddened him. It was thus, he 
thought, with his garden of dreams. The blight 
of winter was over it. 

At the other end of the pleasance he came on a 
little open space, in the midst of which was a stone 
bench. Here three peacocks strutted, spreading gor- 
geous tails in the sunshine, and challenging each 
other for the palm of beauty. At sight of Noel 
they gave voice to the harsh, piercing scream which 
so ill accords with their beauty, and, still screaming, 
retired, leaving him to throw himself on the bench 
and sit, scowling and wondering how long he must 
wait before he could be done with the dreaded inter- 
view, and free to go his way. 

The sun had begun to stretch long shadows on the 
grass before a light rustle of the dead leaves and the 
warning cry of the peacocks told him that some one 
approached. He did not need his eyes to announce 
who it was, for his heart was drumming the news 
to him in quick, heavy beats. He stood up, stiffen- 
ing with angry pride at every step which brought 
her near, meeting her defiantly when she entered the 
little open space where he stood. Yet the look on 
her face made him conscious of a sympathetic burn- 


33 2 The Sign of Triumph 

ing of the lids which sometimes precedes tears, for 
the experiences of the last hour had painted there an 
expression sweet and tender, half-hopeful, half-fear- 
ful, altogether youthful, and strangely appealing. 

But though it moved Noel strongly, it did not 
put out the tire of anger which burned within him. 
She paused before him, seeming at a loss to begin. 
Seeing this, he said, with an angry sneer : 

“ So ’twas thy deer that I stole, after all ? Mayhap 
’tis for this offence I find myself a prisoner in thy 
castle? ” 

She seemed to put aside the end of his speech with 
a little gesture of impatience, and her voice sounded 
tremulous, as if it was with great effort that she 
held it level. 

“ Nay, ’twas none of mine. Thou didst slay my 
lord’s deer to keep life in his little body.” 

“ Then, pray, if not for this offence, why am I 
held a prisoner at Dreux when I desire to be far 
from here? ” Noel demanded, sternly. 

She did not meet his eye, and her voice was very 
low. “ I knew thee — I feared that thou wouldst 
go, so I kept thee perforce.” 

“ And why ? To hold me to an accounting for the 
lie I told thee in saying that the boy was my 
brother ? ” 

“ Thou knowest that ’tis not for this. I desire 


The Sign of Triumph 


333 


to return thanks to thee for all that thou hast done 
for the child. Why wilt thou SO' misunderstand 
me? ” she asked, impatiently. 

“ Well, now that thou hast had thy will, and given 
me thanks I did not want, bid the warder open the 
gates for me, and let me begone, for I am weary of 
this spot.” 

She flinched at this, but held her ground firmly. 
“ I hoped that thou couldst be persuaded to remain 
at Dreux. Raoul being so young, he hath need of 
one to command his troops, and he wishes thee to 
take the task,” she said, with hesitancy. 

“ Thou hast good knights in thy service who have 
better claim to this than I, and I care not for the 
position,” he answered, churlishly. 

She sighed helplessly, as one who deals with a 
fretful child. Her next words had a note of plead- 
ing in them. 

“ The child hath told me all, of what thou hast 
done for him, of what thou hast been to him, and 
of his love for thee. He needs thy care to grow into 
gracious manhood. Stay with him, and lead him in 
the way he ought to tread.” 

Noel greeted this with sardonic laughter. “ Full 
fit am I to lead him to such manhood as thou wouldst 
have him attain, I, who have soiled mine own by the 
roadside and in the brothel, I who have frequented 


334 


The Sign of Triumph 


the tavern and consorted with the lowest; fit sort 
am I to be near such as he, my lady.” 

She turned white at this, and a look of pain came 
in her face. She drew a step nearer, and met his 
eyes with an effort. Then she spoke, but, oh, so 
softly, and, in spite of the look of sturdy determina- 
tion in her eyes, her sensitive chin quivered as he 
had seen Raoul’s do. 

“ Then wilt thou stay because I do desire it ? ” 
she asked. 

Noel looked long in her eyes, so long that she tried 
to turn them away, but he put his hand beneath 
her chin and held her face toward him. What he 
saw there put out all the anger in his heart and sent 
a wild joy rioting through his blood. Yet he felt 
there must be no mistaking; for this once she must 
yield all, then never again while life was his should 
she stoop before him, for henceforward he would 
be at her feet. But he did not know that the look 
in his own eyes was making her task easier. 

“ Do I stay as master or man ? ” 

She tried again to turn her eyes from him; her 
lips moved, but no sound came. Noel knew the 
answer, knew that he might take her in his arms 
and claim her for his own without rebuke, and that 
by this he would help her to conquer self and say 
the words which struggled for utterance, but his 


The Sign of Triumph 


335 


pride still held him. She must come all the distance 
between them. 

“ As master or man ? ” he questioned again. 

At length it came, but scarcely above a whisper, 
and with it came her two white hands fluttering 
toward him in an appeal to spare her. 

“ As master.” 

He caught her in his arms, crushed her against 
him, pressed kiss upon kiss on hands, and face, and 
throat, and hair ; he kissed her and held her, feeling 
at first the resistance of her body against his wild 
embraces, and knowing that it was that proud, un- 
conquerable side of her which fought to the end and 
yielded reluctantly; held her until this passed, and 
he felt the tension of her resistance give, and she 
lay passive against his breast, with a smile on her 
face so sweet, so pitiful in its appealingness, that all 
the fierce riot in his blood died out. He felt suddenly 
as if he had caught a wild dove, and by his rough 
handling had broken its wing, and a rush of tender- 
ness succeeded his wild gust of passion. With this 
came such a realization of his own unworthiness that 
he was aghast at what he had done. 

He lifted her in his arms, and, bearing her to the 
stone bench, placed her on it. Kneeling at her side, 
he buried his face against her knee, feeling his cheek 
wet with hot tears. 


336 The Sign of Triumph 


“ My love, my love, my life,” he whispered, “ what 
have I done? I am not fit to touch thee, much less 
to claim or hold thee. Thou dost not know the e^vil 
of my life.” He lifted his head, trying to face hpr. 

But she quickly closed his mouth with her hand, 
and her tender, happy eyes were smiling into his. 
“ Nay, I do not wish to hear. Raoul has told me 
all thy tale, and I like better to believe the child than 
thee. He has told me as well how he found thee 
by this mark of God upon thy forefront,” and her 
finger softly touched and traced the scar on his fore- 
head. At this he caught her two hands and held 
them, meeting her eyes bravely. The blood flew to 
his face and stained it so that the welted scar showed 
white against its deep crimson. 

“ My lady, my love,” he groaned, “ never say such 
things; I cannot put into words the shame which 
held me when the boy first touched that evil thing 
and called it God’s mark. Thou dost not know how 
I came by it. ’Tis no mark of God, but rather of 
the devil. Listen and I will tell thee ; ” and he poured 
out to her, not only this tale, but all the soiled and 
stained past. He told her how he had believed in 
nothing and lived evilly, until Raoul’s faith had begot 
in him a shame for his past, and the boy’s love had 
awakened an answering love, and made him 
desire better things. But he bade her bear in mind 



•n 


“ HER FINGER SOFTLY TOUCHED 


THE SCAR 







The Sign of Triumph 


337 


that as yet he had not washed away a single stain 
by better acts, and begged her to< let him go away 
and live cleanly and win honour, as he promised her 
he would do, and then come again and claim her 
when he was more worthy. But she only smiled 
at him through her tears, looking sweetly wise, and 
would not hear his reasoning. She drew his head 
against her breast and kissed the disgraceful mark 
on his forehead. “ Poor lad,” she said, with that 
mother-tone in her voice. “ Thou hast been hardly 
dealt with, and the fault is not all thine. I think, 
despite thy words, that Raoul hath the right of it, 
and even if ’twas the devil’s branding-iron that set 
it there, it is God’s own mark, and hath come to be 
for thee a sign of triumph.” 


THE END. 




















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The Mystery of Murray Davenport. By 

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Prince Hagen. By Upton Sinclair, author of 

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The Promotion of the Admiral. By morley 

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voyage, and its romantic interest hinges on the stratagem of 
the captain’s newly wedded wife in order to accompany him 
on his expedition for the salvage of a valuable wreck. The plot 
thickens so gradually that a less competent novelist would be 
in danger of letting the reader’s attention slip. But the climax 
of Benson’s conspiracy to remove the captain, and cany off 
the wife, to whom his lawless passion aspires, is invested with 
the keenest excitement. 

The Story of the Foss River Ranch. By 

Ridgwell Cullom. 

Library i2mo, cloth decorative . . . . $1.50 

The scene of this story is laid in Canada, not in one of the 
great cities, but in that undeveloped section of the great North- 
west where to-day scenes are being enacted similar to those 
enacted fifty years ago during the settlement of the great Amer- 
ican West. The story is intense, with a sustained and well- 
developed plot, and will thus appeal to the reading public. 


6 


Z. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


The Interference of Patricia. By Lilian 

Bell, author of “ Hope Loring,” “ Abroad with the Jim- 
mies,” etc. With a frontispiece from drawing by Frank T 
Merrill. 

Cloth, 1 2mo, decorative cover $ i .00 

This story adds not a little to the author’s reputation as a 
teller of clever tales. It is of the social life of to-day in Denver 
— that city of gold and ozone — and deals of that burg’s pecu- 
liarities with a keen and flashing satire. The character of the 
heroine, Patricia, will hold the reader by its power and bril- 
liancy. Impetuous, capricious, and wayward, with a dominat- 
ing personality and spirit, she is at first a careless girl, then 
develops into a loyal and loving woman, whose interference 
saves the honor of both her father and lover. The love theme 
is in the author’s best vein, the character sketches of the mag- 
nates of Denver are amusing and trenchant, and the episodes 
of the plot are convincing, sincere, and impressive. 


A Book of Girls. By Lilian Bell, author of “ Hope 
Loring,” “ Abroad with the Jimmies,” etc. With a frontis- 
piece. 

Cloth, i 2 mo, decorative cover $1.00 

It is quite universally recognized that Lilian Bell has done 
for the American girl in fiction what Gibson has done for her 
in art — that Lilian Bell has crystallized into a distinct type all 
the peculiar qualities that have made the American girl unique 
among the women of the world. Consequently, a book with a 
Bell heroine is sure of a hearty welcome. What, therefore, 
can be said of this book, which contains no less than four 
types of witching and buoyant femininity? There are four 
stories of power and dash in this volume : “ The Last Straw,” 
“The Surrender of Lapwing,” “The Penance of Hedwig,” 
and “ Garret Owen’s Little Countess.” Each one of these 
tells a tale full of verve and thrill, each one has a heroine ol 
fibre and spirit. 


list of new fiction 7 

Count Zarka. By Sir William Magnay, author of 
“ The Red Chancellor.” 

One volume, library i2mo, cloth, decorative cover, with a 
striking frontispiece $1.50 

“ The Red Chancellor ” was considered by critics, as well as 
by the reading public, one of the most dramatic novels of last 
year. In his new book, Sir William Magnay has continued in 
the field in which he has been so successful. “ Count Zarka ” 
is a strong, quick-moving romance of adventure and political 
intrigue, the scene being laid in a fictitious kingdom of central 
Europe, under which thin disguise may be recognized one of 
the Balkan states. The story in its action and complications 
reminds one strongly of “ The Prisoner of Zenda,” while the 
manoeuvring of Russia for the control in the East strongly sug- 
gests the contemporary history of European politics. The 
character of the mysterious Count Zarka, hero and villain, is 
strongly developed, and one new in fiction. 

The Golden Dwarf. By R. Norman Silver, 
author of “ A Daughter of Mystery,” etc. 

Library i2mo, cloth, illustrated . . . . $1.50 

Mr. Silver needs no introduction to the American public. 
His “ A Daughter of Mystery ” was one of the most realistic 
stories of modern London life that has recently appeared. 
“ The Golden Dwarf ” is such another story, intense and al- 
most sensational. Mr. Silver reveals the mysterious and grue- 
some beneath the commonplace in an absorbing manner. The 
“ Golden Dwarf ” himself, his strange German physician, and 
the secret of the Wyresdale Tower are characters and happen- 
ings which will hold the reader from cover to cover. 

Alain Tanger’s Wife. By J. H. Yoxall, author 
of “ The Rommany Stone,” etc. 

Library i2mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50 

A spirited story of political intrigue in France. The various 
dissensions of the parties claiming political supremacy, and 
“ the wheels within wheels ” that move them to their schemes 
are caustically and trenchantly revealed. A well known figure 
in the military history of France plays a prominent part in the 
plot — but the central figure is that of the American heroine 
— loyal, intense, piquant, and compelling. 


8 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


The Diary of a Year. Passages in the Life of 
a Woman of the World. Edited by Mrs. Charles 
H. E. Brookfield. 

Library i 2mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . #1.25 

The writer of this absorbing study of emotions and events is 
gifted with charming imagination and an elegant style. The 
book abounds in brilliant wit, amiable philosophy, and interest- 
ing characterizations. The “ woman of the world ” reveals 
herself as a fascinating, if somewhat reckless, creature, who 
justly holds the sympathies of the reader. 

The Red Triangle. Being some further chronicles of 
Martin Hewitt, investigator. By Arthur Morrison, 
author of “ The Hole in the Wall,” “ Tales of Mean 
Streets,” etc. 

Library 12 mo, cloth $1.50 

This is a genuine, straightforward detective story of the kind 
that keeps the reader on the qui vive. Martin Hewitt, inves- 
tigator, might well have studied his methods from Sherlock 
Holmes, so searching and successful are they. His adventures 
take him at times to the slums of London, amid scenes which 
recall Mr. Morrison’s already noted “The Hole in the Wall.” 
As a combination of criminal and character studies, this book 
is very successful. 

COMMONWEALTH series 

No. 7. The Philadelphians: As Seen by a 

New York Woman. By Katharine Bingham. (Pseud.) 
Large i2mo, cloth, gilt top, with illustrations by Alice Bar- 
bour Stephens and George Gibbs. . . . $1.25 

A bright and breezy tale of a charming New York woman, 
whose wedded lot is twice cast in Philadelphia. The family of 
her first husband committed the unpardonable sin of living 
north of Market Street; that of her second husband resided 
south of that line of demarcation. She is thus enabled to 
speak whereof she knows concerning the conventions, and 
draws the characteristics of life in the Quaker city, as well as 
the foibles of the “ first families ” with a keen and caustic, 
though not unkindly, pen. 


Selections from 

L. C. Page and Company's 

List of Fiction 


WORKS OF 

ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS 

Captain Ravenshaw; or, the maid of 

Cheapside. (35th thousand.) A romance of Elizabethan 
London. Illustrations by Howard Pyle and other artists. 

Library i2mo, cloth $1.50 

Not since the absorbing adventures of D’Artagnan have we 
had anything so good in the blended vein of romance and 
comedy. The beggar student, the rich goldsmith, the roisterer 
and the rake, the fop and the maid, are all here : foremost 
among them, Captain Ravenshaw himself, soldier of fortune 
and adventurer, who, after escapades of binding interest, 
finally wins a way to fame and to matrimony. The rescue of 
a maid from the designs of an unscrupulous father and rakish 
lord forms the principal and underlying theme, around which 
incidents group themselves with sufficient rapidity to hold one’s 
attention spellbound. 

Philip Winwood. (70th thousand.) A Sketch of 
the Domestic History of an American Captain in the War of 
Independence, embracing events that occurred between and 
during the years 1763 and 1785 in New York and London. 
Written by his Enemy in War, Herbert Russell, Lieutenant 
in the Loyalist Forces. Presented anew by Robert Neil- 
son Stephens. Illustrated by E. W. D. Hamilton. 

Library i2mo, cloth $1.50 

“ One of the most stirring and remarkable romances that have 
been published in a long while, and its episodes, incidents, and 
actions are as interesting and agreeable as they are vivid and 
dramatic.” — Boston Times. 


2 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


An Enemy to the King. (40th thousand.) From 

the “ Recently Discovered Memoirs of the Sieur de la 
Tournoire.” Illustrated by H. De M. Young. 

Library i2mo, cloth ...... $1.50 

An historical romance of the sixteenth century, describing 
the adventures of a young French nobleman at the Court of 
Henry III., and on the field with Henry of Navarre. 

“ A stirring tale.” — Detroit Free Press. 

“ A royally strong piece of fiction.” — Boston Ideas. 

“Interesting from the first to the last page.” — Brooklyn Eagle. 

“ Brilliant as a play ; it is equally brilliant as a romantic novel.” — 
Philadelphia Press. 

The Continental Dragoon : a romance of 

Philipse Manor House in 1778. (42d thousand.) Illus- 
trated by H. C. Edwards. 

Library i2mo, cloth $1.50 

A stirring romance of the Revolution, the scene being laid 
in and around the old Philipse Manor House, near Yonkers, 
which at the time of the story was the central point of the so- 
called “ neutral territory ” between the two armies. 

The Road to Paris: A Story of Adventure. 
(23d thousand.) Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. 

Library i2mo, cloth $1.50 

An historical romance of the 18th century, being an account 
of the life of an American gentleman adventurer of Jacobite 
ancestry, whose family early settled in the colony of Pennsyl- 
vania. 

A Gentleman Player : his adventures on a 
Secret Mission for Queen Elizabeth. (35th thou- 
sand.) Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 

Library i2mo, cloth $1.50 

“A Gentleman Player” is a romance of the Elizabethan 
period. It relates the story of a young gentleman who, in the 
reign of Elizabeth, falls so low in his fortune that he joins 
Shakespeare’s company of players, and becomes a friend and 
pro^g^ of the great poet. 













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